


No Witnesses

by SayYouDontKnow



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, Homelessness, LGBT, Pining, Religion, Romance, Slow Burn, homophobia eventually, its like a weird mix of angsty domestic life filled with drama mama, katya looks like unhhh episode 38.5 yes god, lesbian trixya, mental health oh Boy, slow burn as in really expensive candle slow burn, song fic intro, violets very minor, weird courtship between definitely not lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 54,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayYouDontKnow/pseuds/SayYouDontKnow
Summary: Living is difficult, and being a homeless, Russian immigrant questioning the existence of a greater being makes things just a little bit harder. When a blonde Christian girl dances her way into Katya's life, everything is thrown into jeopardy and the dirt of her past is overturned as God intertwines their paths - for better or for worse.OrKatya meets her Godly Woman.





	1. Dark (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first thing I'm shamelessly publishing! ❤️ Thank you for reading. This chapter was grown from Keaton Henson's "How Could I Have Known". Don't be surprised if a lot of songs from these chapters are by him.  
> Also, prepare for a slow-moving fic. I hope to take this somewhere thoughtful and genuine. This chapter is more of a prologue than anything - introducing major themes and our two main characters. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am in no way religious, a lot of this fic is inspired by my own grapplings with God. I have little experience in church, so please forgive my shortcomings when writing about it.  
> ALSO SUPER IMPORTANT: this is focused on Trixie and Katya as drag personas - real ass women doing real ass things. Always remember: it's the characters, not the real people behind 'em. 
> 
> Thank you, and please enjoy ❤️ Feedback is appreciated !

If God were watching, Katya wouldn't know what to say. She sat cross-legged in middle of the aisle, head in her hands as she let go of fluid whispers that tumbled from her lips to the Lord.

  
"I hope you'll forgive me," she began, her accent thick and almost tangible in the air. "I've been so lost...and, to be honest, I'm not sure you're out there."  
She inhaled sharply. Being genuine was difficult. "I've drank and smoked. I've loved and been hurt. And I'm not sure if it's because you're trying to prove something to me, and I know you made us all in your image - if it is you who made us - so this can't be a mistake. Please. Convince me, send a sign, or change me now...Help me through this. I'm not used to being so alone."

  
The candles in the halls flickered in the night, and the hallowed cast of godly figures surrounded Katya. She had always loved Joan of Arc, valiant and true, honest and good, so beautiful etched into glass. The woman stood, brushing off her knees in the dark, as she walked towards the giant stained glass artwork splattered across the wall. All so beautiful, distinct, and Godly. Who was she but a chip on such a wall? And who was Joan, ablaze and dying, if not just a burn pile of ash? Perhaps they weren't so different after all.

  
A low moan echoed through the halls, and Katya's head whipped to the door. The church was meant to be closed for the night, with nobody to keep watch, but the Russian woman was desperate for shelter - being found was not an option. The door slowly began to open, so she darted behind the wooden benches where the choir sang, only peaking out to watch the figure that entered.

  
It was a woman.

  
She stood tall, almost six feet, with long, straight blonde hair down to her mid-calves and a long piece of fabric wrapped across her forehead like a headband. The stranger was lit beautifully by the remaining candles, complementing her gracious curves and delicate movements well. Her orange dress was tight and clung to her body everywhere, save for her sleeves, which hung down from daintily-held arms before cinching in at the wrist. Each step was a thoughtful effort, and the woman tilted her head to each side as she walked.

  
She was beautiful.

  
"Hello?"

  
Her voice rang through the open walls of the church, and Katya caught her breath. No. Fuck. Please, no.

  
The woman giggled lightly, almost in spite of herself, and moved to sit at the piano parallel to the choir seats.

  
"Alright, next Wednesday...Mmm..." Her voice was sweet, delicious almost. It was playful, and sounded uncomfortable alone. She toyed with a few keys, pressing her feet into the pedals as if to experiment with the instrument's sound.  
The woman must be practicing for something, despite Katya not being able to recall seeing her in the crowd before.

The world felt hazy as the church walls began to hum with delicate notes, all weaving together in the darkened and lonely air. Katya held her hand over her mouth, less than twenty feet away from the blonde woman and unable to look away from her. She was shockingly gorgeous. Her lips and cheeks were a softened pink, with thick black liner tied around her brown eyes. Katya cursed the candle lit right beside the piano.

  
The stranger's thin fingers danced across the keys, and she inhaled shakily. The notes were so frail, almost breaking in the open air, and she opened her mouth.

  
_"How could I have known,_  
_that you were the one for me?"_

  
Katya's short nails dug into the wood of the choir stand, keeping her from falling over. Her eyes darted from the stranger to the face of Joan, her jaw agape.

  
_"How could I know,_  
_that you were the_ ,  
_air I breathe_  
_if I,_  
_don't believe...in love."_

  
This woman must have been sent by God.

  
_"How was I to know,_  
_that I couldn't live without,_  
_your arms around me?_  
_If you'd only,_  
_come back now - I'd not,_  
_let you down, again..."_

  
Her finger slipped and she missed a key. She sat back, sighing and wiping at her eyes. Katya wanted to jump up and reassure her. The last word she had sung echoed through the church's high ceiling, and if God was truly among them, he had his fingers wrapped around Katya's body, not allowing her to move, to speak, and barely letting a single breath pass through her mouth.

  
The woman began to play again.  
_"And how could you allow,_  
_allow me to love you so?_  
_How cruel a thing."_

  
God hand crafted this woman, with her ample figure and delicate, strained voice. He wove the lengths of her long, bleached hair, and willed her to sit with decent posture as she played. He had worked hard on this one. Katya could tell.

  
_"If you'd only...hold me close,_  
_I'd not let you go, again."_

  
And God had willed this woman to cry.  
She cried into her open palms, leaning against the edge of the piano keys, not daring to hit any. Katya was struck by the deafening silence of the church, and the gentle weeping of the beautiful stranger. She wished to jump to action and hold the stranger close, just as she had pleaded for. She wanted to cry with her.

  
But God held her still.


	2. Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like music for this one, pull up Keaton Henson's "Earnestly Yours". 
> 
> Thank you, and please enjoy.

Katya walked into church a few days later, sighing as she sat down. If there was a God, He would understand.

  
She sat near the middle of the crowd during service, her hands held delicately in her lap. Her attire was barely church-appropriate - a plain black shirt tucked halfway into her jeans, and old, ratty converse from her youth covered in sharpie inscriptions. She pressed her palms together and lowered her head as the church fell into silence, her eyes shut so tightly that her face crinkled with each thought.

  
The light of the church was bright. Every last window brought in an eternal, cascading light that Katya wished to throw herself into. The warmth of the sun on her face, the touch of anything Godly, and the feeling of home. She missed it so.

  
The church's air began to buzz again, and Katya looked up. A tall figure drenched in light pink had stood, a few rows ahead of her, and the preacher beckoned to her. The light hit in her such a way that she almost looked fragile as she stepped carefully down the aisle, threatening to topple over and shatter like glass with every move. Her hair was pulled into a thick bun, and when she turned around, she smiled so softly that God wrapped his fingers around Katya's neck and pulled her to attention.

  
It was the Godly Woman, in all her glory, shining down upon the congregation like the morning sun, so much brighter than she was the days prior.

  
The pastor began to speak, but Katya did not hear. Her mouth was slammed shut, her eyes barely blinking, her face frozen. She had no choice but to drink in the delicacy of her God-made woman, finding nothing she wanted to look at more. Her gaze followed the woman as she sat behind the piano and began to play.

  
The choir sang, but she could see the woman's pink lips moving. The group's loud, melodic shuffle slowly evolved into a form of Amazing Grace, and their voices swept across the crowd as others began to sing. Katya was quiet as she stood, mouthing the words and glancing around. The entire building was light with the air of music, each individual voice twisting with another, raising to the heavens and the high, intricate ceiling, and Katya felt herself sinking as the world above her rose to the sound of the Godly Woman's music.

  
She watched the woman's mouth move, unable to hear her voice. She saw it stop for a moment as the blonde stranger looked around the room, her eyes dragging across each face - and, for just a moment, she looked right at Katya.

  
Service was long and tested Katya's patience. She stood quickly when the preacher nodded, ducking into the bathroom to pull her hair back and appreciate a moment of quiet. When she re-entered the main room, she noticed a few older women unwrapping homemade dishes and sweets.

  
Fucking score.

  
Katya meandered over casually, offering to help the women, and grabbing a plate to fill as fast as she could. Eating as ravenously as she wished to would have set off alarms, so she stuck a meatball in her mouth and let the fork hang out of her lips. She smiled down at the women. "'sh good."

  
She stood alone in the corner of the room, looking up and down the crowd. The back room was much less elegant - fit for a reception like this, maybe, with its wide windows and flaking cream paint. The noises of the congregation swirled around her head as she ate. People, all in harmony, swaying to their own beat. Katya loved to watch.  
The crowd parted a bit as a figure pushed its way through, holding a plate of desserts to leave on the table. Katya turned her attention to the piano in the corner. Despite its much less glamourous exterior, this room was fit for music. Maybe dancing. Maybe this is where people went after weddings, to celebrate and love loudly.

  
"Hello?"

She snapped her head to attention, almost dropping the full plate of food. The voice's southern accent was thick and rich, with a sort of hesitation to it. Like it was trying to hide something. Katya looked right into the stranger's eyes, frozen at the sight.

  
The Godly Woman stood before her, strands of blonde, curly hair dangling in front of her face and reaching her chest. Her expression was curious, almost loaded with questions and ready to fire. Brown. Katya stared at her. Brown eyes. For some reason, she knew she'd remember that.

  
"H-hi."

  
"I, uhm...I saw you standing alone, and wanted you to know that you're welcome to join all of us. We aren't too intimidating, people mostly just talk about their weeks and their families after service." The woman twirled a piece of her hair around her pointer finger before jumping to attention. "Oh, and! You looked hungry, so I wanted to offer you one of these." She gestured to the platter she had just placed at the table beside them. "They're dirt cakes. I made 'em!"

  
And then she beamed at Katya in the most indescribable way. Katya choked on her breath for a moment, glancing down at the table and up at the Godly Woman. "Dirt....cakes? Like. Dirt?"

  
"No, no!" The stranger bit her lip and smiled, trying to stifle laughter. "It's cookies and cake and cream and - well, it's good. That's what you need to know."

  
"I...okay. Thanks."

  
"Trixie." Katya looked down at the woman's hand, now outstretched in her direction. Her nails were short and pink. She looked soft. And fuck, her name fit well.

  
"Katya," she responded, trying to muffle her accent and she shook the woman's hand. Americans weren't the fondest of her, and she didn't want to fuck up that quickly with an ethereal woman.

  
"Ooh, Katya. Cool." The name dripped off her lips like honey. "Well, I'm gonna get back to my family. Come join us if you like, and...I'll see you soon, I'm sure." This girl lived and breathed Southern hospitality and charm, and Katya felt crushed knowing she could never extend the same kindness.

  
"Yeah...see you."

  
She watched as the woman - Trixie - bounced back to her friends and family, again finding herself unable to look away. The Godly Woman swirled into the crowd, laughing and smiling, sitting at the piano chair and leaning against it as she spoke with strangers-turned-friends. The casual nature of the world began to weigh on Katya, and she put her plate down, almost feeling nauseous. It all snapped when she heard small notes ring through the closed room, and God turned her gaze to see the pink-nailed fingers trailing across open keys, dancing as she moved her shoulders and tapped her feet against the ground. The Russian woman's breathing became hoarse and her chest ached. She wanted so badly to stay. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

  
Katya ran for the nearest entrance, quietly making her escape as to not call any attention to her departure. She ran and ran, her feet slamming against the ground as she broke free of the hands of God and fled. She ran like she was being chased, despite knowing she was not. She ran like the world was closing in on her, despite knowing that it had been wound tightly around her for a long time now. Everything was full of breath and choked, both different and all too familiar, and Katya grappled with the idea that she was lonelier than she had ever been.

  
And then she stopped, as if grabbed by God and told to stay put, alone in the giant room, staring up at the saints and their shining eyes.

  
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound. The sound of the Godly Woman's musical hands and her simple voice. Maybe she was a God, her face smiling down at Katya in detailed stained glass, alone in the fading light of the church.

Whatever she was, Katya was afraid.


	3. Krasivaya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No music for this one, hope that's alright. The kids interact more in this one, woo-hoo! 
> 
> And a quick note: I grew up in a house that spoke fluent Russian, but I never could figure out how to translate the romantacized versions of the words into cyrillic. All russian phrases are in italics, and I believe should all be easily google-able. 
> 
> As always, enjoy. Feedback is appreciated ❤️

The soup kitchen was large, mildly inviting, and filled with interesting strangers. People didn't mind Katya's slavic tongue and welcomed her stories of home. They would ask her for translations of particular words or to say their name in as thick of an accent as she could muster, and Katya always obliged. It was the least she could do in a room full of people with such love to give. 

 

She stepped into the large building, scanning its weathered pinic benches and the metallic cafeteria on the left side of the room. There were a few families wandering around, first to the line for food and then over to the eating area.

  
"Miss!"

  
Katya jumped, looking down at whatever had just tugged on her shoulder. It was a little boy, with an innocent expression on his face and a tiny carton of milk in his hands.

  
"You're the Russian lady, right? Gramma was telling me about you."

  
"Oh... _da_ , here to serve," Katya smiled and bowed down at the boy, who stared at her with starry eyes.

  
"How do you say this?!" He flung his arm out and held the carton inches away from her nose.

  
" _Moloko_." She responded quickly before noticing the child's confusion. "Ah, mo-luh-ko. _Moloko_. The -ko is really fast, and the -luh is the most important."

  
"Moe...luh....koh?"

  
"Mhm, you've got it. You gonna go tell your grandma 'bout it?"

  
"Yes! I will! Thank you!"

  
Katya grinned and watched the boy run away, his arms in the air. She missed that. The Russian language ran through her veins and practically poured out of her eyes; it was relaxing to speak and to teach again. The boy's grandmother - a favorite regular of Katya's - must have known that.

  
With a quick scan of the area, she threw herself onto a bench in the farthest corner and fingered through the pages of one of the many table-bibles scattered across the establishment. She loved the concept of religion, the way that it brought everyone together, and the way that it seemed to reveal the good in outwardly bad people. But she didn't know if religion was strong enough to help her. Not today, at least.

  
Adam and Eve were an interesting pair, to say the least. The first man and woman, with an infinite amount of world to explore, and they didn't. That didn't sit right, nor did the doctrine of love set by their existence. Eve fell in love and lust by circumstance, right? She was never of ill-intent and continued on genuinely, stuck with the world, Adam, and her creator. Eve couldn't have been happy, both deceived by the serpent and cursed with shame and sin. Katya ran her fingers over Eve's name, tilting her head. She deserved better.

  
"Kah-tea-ah? Or....Kat-ya? Like 'caught you' but super Southern?"

  
Katya slammed the book shut and looked up, rattled by the disturbance. A familiar set of brown eyes covered in thick liner with doe lashes met hers, and she shivered at the closeness.

  
The Godly Woman stood before her, full of light. 

  
"T-Trixie," she quickly spit out, rolling the r in her name like a purr. "Uh - the, the latter, yeah."

  
"Well then, Kat-ya, I brought you some food," the taller blonde grinned and set a tin platter down, pushing it to Katya and sitting down across from her. The tin had a few pieces of bread, a large cup of soup, and what looked like a few cuts of chicken or turkey tucked between the edge of the tin and the soup dish.

  
"Uhm, tha...thank you?" She looked at the meal and then up at Trixie, who glowed with both joy and something otherworldly. "What are you doing here?"

  
"Oh! I volunteer here every week or so. I read to the kids if they're up for it, I bake sweets and bring them in on Fridays, I sometimes bring my guitar in and sing for the night crowd when we open as shelter during storms and really bad fires...I told my mama that you were at service a few days ago, so she let me slip you something extra. So eat, eat!"

  
Katya nodded and bit into a hunk of bread, chewing thoughtfully as the blonde smiled at her with wide eyes.  
"Uh...it's...it's good." That might be the stupidest thing she's ever said to somebody at this kitchen, knowing full well that Trixie didn't bake it, but she could feel the blonde's gaze cutting through her.

  
"That's good! Now I have a slightly invasive question to ask of you. Eye-for-an-eye," she said, emphasizing each word by pointing at pink nail between her face and Katya's.

  
The Russian woman gulped. It always had to happen - the line of questioning, asking to see where she lived, asking about family or a lover - so here it must come. The typical story of some nobody that a stunning church girl wouldn't want to associate with.

  
"Why didn't you take one of my dirt cakes after service on Wednesday?"

  
Katya choked on her bread, coughing erratically and pounding on her chest with a close fist. " _Shtoh_?! Wh...huh?!

  
The woman pouted, sticking out her lower lip and fluttering her lashes. "I saw you leave without taking one. You looked like you were in a hurry, but..." Something flashed over her eyes. "I dunno. It just seemed...Well, I wanted you to have one, and..."

  
"I didn't mean to be rude, I promise, I promise." Katya tried to reign in all of the adrenaline pumping through her body and spoke without thinking. "Will you bring anything to the next service, _solnyshka moya_?"

  
Trixie stared at her, obviously frazzled. "Soul-niche-kah..."

  
"Ah." The Russian's face burned like embers and her adrenaline drained through her shoes, uselessly pooling at her feet. "Sol, it, uhm, _solnyshka_..." She shook her head and sighed shakily, unable to lift her eyes from her meal. Discomfort crept over her shoulders, lacing its branches around Katya's neck and pulling down into her chest. Panic stirred quickly. "I, I should've-"

  
Katya's neck snapped forward when she felt her hands being grabbed. She looked up into Trixie's eyes, dazzling with excitement as she stood over the shorter girl. "You speak Russian? Wow! I should've known from your name - I mean, I didn't want to go around assuming things, but your name sounded really cool and made me sound super southern."

  
"Yes, I. I do." Katya sat forward on the bench, adjusting her posture so the blonde wouldn't have to lean in so far. Trixie looked down at their joined hands, blushing and dropping them.

  
"Sorry," she muttered, ruffling her hair nervously. "I get excited and loud and it's a lot. People get used to it, though!" She paused, her breath hanging in the air as she tilted her head to steal a glance at the bible Katya was trying to hide with her elbow. "I hope you do, too."

  
"Oh, uhm." The Russian stuttered and shoved the remaining bread in her mouth, trying to buy time to think. " _Ya tozhe._ Me too."

  
"Ya toe-zha. _Ya tozhe_!"

  
"Mhm." And she smiled, ernestly smiled, in a fond way that would've shocked her had there been a mirror behind Trixie's head.

  
"Do you think your accent's bad?" This girl is to-the-point with what she says, and Katya welcomes to lack of reserve.

  
" _Nyet_ \- well. Sometimes, I don't like..." Sticking out. Calling attention to herself. Being too weird. Doing anything that could make her anxious. "...I feel it makes people uncomfortable."

  
"It's really slight, you shouldn't feel self conscious. I think it's cute!"

  
" _Spasibo_." Katya smirked a little bit to herself, confidence boiling in her throat. This was fun, as long as she didn't overstep any boundaries.

  
"Spa-sea-bah. Uhm. Does that....I agree?" The blonde girl squinted at Katya and deflated when she shook her head. "Spaaaseaaaabah. _Spasibo_. Uhm. Thank you!"

  
"Correct."

  
Trixie clapped her hands together. "If I keep getting them right, will you eat the food I bring in? You're skin and bone, hun."

  
Hun. Katya shivered and tilted her head. "Mmm, well...you didn't get them all correct, mama."

  
"I'll keep guessing! Give me more!"

  
" _Krasivaya. Krasivaya devushka_."

  
"That. I." Trixie stammered and looked all around, as if the buzzing room would offer her any help. "Uhm. That's...can we start at a beginner level?"

  
"I'll just eat your dirt cake, Trixie."

  
"I bake other things, too!!! Cake, cupcakes, and mean cinnamon rolls."

  
"Do you make anything that isn't sweet?"

   
"Well, what do you like? What could I make you?"

  
"Tobacco."

  
Trixie froze, staring at Katya for a moment before slamming her open palms on the table and letting out a shriek of laughter. "Oh, you, you rotted...I like you, Kat-ya." She continued giggling as Katya sat upright and proud - proud that she had made the pretty Barbie-look-alike laugh.

  
"Well, I'll find something I can make for you, even if I have to bake a hundred things and ash into the cake batter for you. Deal?"

  
"Sounds like I'm doing zero work other than eating food. Deal."

  
Trixie beamed and stood, bowing her head to look down at Katya. "Well...gosh, I've spent a lot of time over here. I hope you'll stick around after service next time, I was hoping to get to know you..." She pressed her hands into her cheeks and smiled coyly. "But I just did that, so next time, let's get to know each other better, okay?"

  
" _Khorosho_."

  
"Mmm...I'll figure out what that means next time." The woman stepped away from the bench, about to turn away before glancing back at Katya. "And, Kat-ya?"

  
"Yeah?" she breathed, her gaze locked on Trixie.

  
"Feel free to tell me if you need anything. We're friends now, so I'll always find a way to help you through."

  
Katya stared at her, searching for a motive or any intent. Instead, she was met with genuine eyes, a gentle smile, and a small hand wave as Trixie bounced away.

  
She watched for a long time. Watched Trixie pull a hair net over her thick, blonde curls, and blow at a strand that fell between her eyes as she leaned over to ladel out soup. Watched her smile and laugh with each passing figure, even reaching down to ruffle a kid's hair with her gloved hand. Watched her dance freely behind the wall that separated the kitchen and the line, then watched her get scolded by an older man who she smiled charmingly at to get off the hook. The pages of the bible fluttered between Katya's fingertips and went unnoticed as the booming thought _krasivaya, krasivaya, ona krasivaya_ rocked her mind, like God whispering in her ears as she sat frozen in time, a simple spectator in Trixie's beautiful world.

 

She inhaled sharply and snapped the book shut, her eyes widening.

 

_This is going to be a huge problem for me_.


	4. Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like music, I listened to Keaton Henson's "Nearly Curtains" while writing a decent chunk of this chapter. 
> 
> Things will pick up very, very soon, we're getting through the last bit of basic story-building in the upcoming chapter, aka Katya finally being honest. Thank you for being patient ❤️
> 
> Please enjoy, and feedback is appreciated.

The storm raged on, spitting down icy pellets of rain on Katya's head. She held her backpack close to her chest and looked around, unable to see clearly in the flurry of dark night and flashing city lights. At even the slightest glimmer of silver on the side of a distant road, the woman ran, huffing as she grabbed onto the bus stop pole and threw herself under the small shelter of the stop. The overhang didn't hold up well under the heavy rainfall, and Katya shivered as she waited and slung the backpack over her shoulders.

She stepped onto the bus hesitantly, glancing between the driver and the ticket slot. He waved her in, and Katya dragged her heavy feet to the back of the bus. Smoke whisped from her lips as she leaned into the seat, taking a of a cigarette for the first time that night in the dry seclusion of the bus. The driver said nothing, pulling away from the stop and onto the empty midnight roads.

Katya closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She listened to the smooth grain of the bus wheels rolling through standing water, feeling the world slow around her. That damned sinking feeling pulled at her skin, tearing at her ribcage and into her heart. Memories, long forgotten, seeping through the cracks and flashing behind closed lids - her first car, shitty and dying as she drove, windows down with billows of smoke trailing behind the car as it coasted down a highway. The sweet taste of the summer heat and the whir of the small fan she had pushed into the corner of her dashboard. Music she hadn't listened to in years. Voices of people she never wanted to see again.

Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply, frantically glancing between the couple of passengers who had sat in front of her. Pressing the end of the cigarette into her upper thigh, Katya exhaled slowly and shakily through her nose. She clung to her backpack, burying her nose in it for a moment before the bus stopped and the driver glanced at her through the rear view mirrow. Her exit wasn't anything short of clumsy, and like always, the driver pushed away her measley handful of quarters and waved as the Russian woman tripped off the bus.

The streets felt more daunting in the storm. They teased Katya onward with reflections of flickering street lights and the glow of small apartment windows, and she resented them even more with each step forward. She shoved the quarters into the backpack's side pocket and dug around for her pocket knife, holding it close to her side as she jogged through the sheets of rain. Time passed slowly and cars passed quickly, spraying water over the woman's side until she broke away from the side of the road and bolted under the overhang of the familiar cream structure. She pressed her cold fingertips against the wooden doors, whispering a silent prayer and daring to crack one open to escape the onslaught of shitty weather.

Katya felt her shoulders drop and the tension in her neck melt as she was met with the warmth of the church. She had quickly grown fond of the marble floors and red, skinny carpets thrown between each row of seats. The candles were welcoming and she stepped fully into the cathedral, breathing in the air and letting it wash over her body. She wondered if this is what it felt like to come home.

"Katya?"

She froze. No. No. Katya turned toward her shrilly whispered name, arms shaking. The urge to flee pulsed through her veins and overwhelmed every thought, but God pressed a finger into her head and kept her still. She cursed her luck, so consistent and disastrous. She cursed the weather, this city, her hometown, her parents, all her old friends, the bus driver that denied her money because just look at her, fucking look at her, wreaking of neediness and insecurity, a walking mess and malgamation of every parent's worst nightmare. She cursed God for holding her captive like this. Katya cursed God for making her.

Her Godly Woman, so warm and pure, sat beneath the stained glass, perched on the third level of the choir's stand. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her blonde hair flowed freely over her body, messy and unkempt, particular and mesmerizing. A watercolor painting, with rosy cheeks and shoulders and freckles spattered across her chest that disappeared underneath a thin slip dress. Living and breathing, a bright-eyed doe, the picture of innocence and beauty.

Katya dropped her pocket knife with a clang and winced as it echoed into the church's high ceiling, breaking the silence between the two. "T-Trixie."

The two had spoken casually after service, but Katya had never felt comfortable enough to stay for long. She always came up with a way to excuse herself - a friend coming over, expecting a call from work, some other believable lie. It hurt every time, running from Trixie and her good intentions, but something about the blonde's gentle expressions and shocking laughter terrified Katya. Playing a part in Trixie's world pressed against some internal sixth sense that screamed to run, but she loved to watch from a distance.

And now, staring at the blonde as she shifted underneath her blanket to lean forward, Katya was all too aware of her weathered backpack, her soaking clothing that she had definitely worn to the last service, and the constant dripping of her sopping wet hair.

"What are you doing here?"

The words hung in the air, delicate and concerned, lacking the accusatory tone that Katya had expected.

"Wh..w-what are you, uhm...t-the doors are open, anyone could...You should lock them." Any words that came to mind flew out of her mouth, no matter how nonsensical they were. Trixie blinked once, twice, three times. Katya could practically feel her gaze scanning every inch of her drenched and frail body. She felt naked in the eyes of her tenured God.

The blonde jumped from the choir stand, whipping the blanket off of her shoulders as she stepped closed. " _P-pozhaluysta, nyet, nye_ t," Katya whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her back against the closed door.

"Katya." She felt a soft warmth, as if her Godly Woman's aura simply carried a particular homeliness to it. Her shoulders tensed as the blanket was pressed against the sides of her neck, dabbing water off of her bare skin.

"... _Shtoh_?"

"You know I don't know what that means," Trixie murmured, staring at the Russian's shivering frame. Katya looked up at her, guilt seeping through her body when she noticed the worry in her eyes. She was so close, the closest they'd ever been, and her cheeks burned as she tried to avoid further eye contact. "You'll get sick if I don't get you dry as soon as we can. Please, come with me."

Katya squeezed her eyes shut, pulling the backpack even closer to her chest as she shook her head quickly. " _Nyet_. I, I can't stay here."

Trixie was silent as she continued wiping Katya down, soft fingertips grazing rough skin as she dragged the blanket across Katya's bare arms. She was held firmly in place, by Trixie's warmth, by God's will, by her own inability to break free. Everything in her mind screamed to run, but her heart let its roots grow deep into the church floors. For years, Katya's skin had remained cold and untouched, and she wanted nothing more than to linger in the feeling of skin on skin, to melt against Trixie's touch, and to open her heart to the glow of the Godly Woman.

She was so fucking deprived that feeling what she had lacked for so long could have killed her. The thought that this was fleeting, that Trixie would pull away, and that this would come to a stop. That the storm would clear, and the thunder outside would settle and Katya would return to dumpster fires and staring blankly into brick alleyways and never stop moving, always running, never relaxed, always afraid.

The backpack fell to her feet and Katya felt her eyes burn as she dared to open them again. Trixie's fingers were gently wrapped around her wrists, the edges of the blanket pressed between her palms and Katya's skin. " _Prosti_ ," she whispered, barely audible over the roaring storm. " _Prosti, prosti, prosti..._ "

The candles surrounding them wavered, and the warmth was gone for a moment. The second it left, Katya felt herself falling. Everything she had needed had disappeared, and God had finally, finally given up on her, leaving her as hollow and empty as the new-formed space between her and Trixie. She felt her breath hitch in a moment of weakness, and she lifted her chin upwards.

And then the warmth returned, enveloping Katya so intensely that her knees faltered. The space between them was gone, and Trixie's hands were firmly placed on Katya's back, pulling her off of the door and against the taller figure. Her voice caught in her throat, and she could feel the blanket trapped between the two of them.

They stood by the door like that for a long while. Katya's incessant shaking slowed and came to a stop, her near hyperventilation calming to match Trixie's controlled breaths. A fluttering sensation danced through Katya's chest as she pressed her face into the blonde's shoulder, flooding her body with a particular comfort that she hadn't felt in a long time. Trixie's hand rubbed her back and she hummed softly as Katya's quiet sobs subsided. God laced the two together, from each delicate and defined touch to their joined breath, and every burned memory was worth it, finally worth it. Everything at once collided within the path He had created for her, and it all made sense. For the first time in a very long time, Katya felt right at home in God's world.


	5. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy, and feedback, kudos, anything is appreciated ❤️ Get ready for things to get domestic next chapter !

"I don't want to be invasive, so I'm just gonna ask the really important questions, okay? No whos, wheres, whys, whens, or hows. Then we'll, uhm, we'll go from there."

Katya sat in a soft chair in the hall between the main area of the church and the reception room, the blanket wound tightly around her body and her hair pulled back (which Trixie had insisted on doing for her - "Wet hair on your neck just makes everything feel worse!"). Trixie stood across from her with her back pressed against the wooden railing hanging off the walls. The two each felt uncomfortable handling such feelings of guilt for the other - and Katya knew that any chance of a friendship had probably drained from Trixie. The idea tugged at her heart but she ignored it, focusing on the blonde's worried expression.

" _Da_."

"Okay...do you have a current place of work?"

"Not...technically."

Trixie's face softened. "Place of residence?"

"It changes often."

"Are you at least indoors most nights?"

"...No, I'm not."

"Oh, my god, Katya..." she breathed. "One slightly more prodding question - how often do you stay in the church?"

"I...I stay sometimes. That's when I am indoors," Katya remarked casually. "I hate abusing this place, so...I usually only come when things are really bad, be it weather-wise or...y'know, regarding the lots of other things that can be shi- really bad."

"Did...did you begin to attend service right as these...circumstances...came about?" Trixie questioned her hesitantly. "I, uhm, I promise I'm not judging, I just...want to get an idea of the timeline."

"It's been like this for as long as I can remember. My parents kicked me out when I was in high school, and I just lived house-to-house with friends until all those friends moved away or left. I honestly can't tell you why I started coming to service. Maybe somebody mentioned it to me at the soup kitchen, maybe I knew deep down that you all didn't lock the doors. I always get this feeling after reception." She tilted her gaze away from Trixie, instead glancing over to the set of choir nametags and tiny pamphlets scattered by a side exit. It felt easy to say all of this, despite having never really divulged it to anyone before. But the Godly Woman, Katya's shining beacon of light, felt different than any prodding or nosey questions from soup kitchen regulars, and she felt as if it would be impossible to hide her life from Trixie any longer.

"Feeling?"

"Yeah, well, I dunno. I see you with your family, and you're all laughing and smiling, and sometimes you play music and I always want to tell you it's fuckin' beautiful - I, sorry, sorry, I know." She tapped two fingers against her lips, and closed her eyes. "It's just...it's like everything's so perfect, and I never get to see perfect lives, especially not when I'm ashing into an empty coke can that somebody left at an abandoned camping site. I wonder what it's like. To be the gorgeous daughter in a happy family who can sing and dance and play music and she volunteers and everybody looks at her like she's an angel because maybe she is." The words flowed freely from her mouth. "I thought maybe God was punishing me. Showing me everything that He had planned for me until I threw a wrench in literally every plan that anybody's ever set forth for me. I see you, sitting at the piano and singing, and I want to get closer but also run like you're a forest fire." Katya looked up, her chin still tucked close to her neck. "I first came here because...I, I thought 'well, if God is out there, He made a mistake', right? And then...again, if He is real, He had us meet, and it all feels like some high school prank."

"I don't think that's true," Trixie interjected. "If anything, God brings people together for a reason. He wouldn't just use me as a pawn in your life - otherwise, I wouldn't like you so much." She tilted her head thoughtfully, and Katya was reminded of the woman's blunt nature. "And even if you are right...then maybe I'm here to help you."

" _Izvinite_ , but what were you even doing here anyway? A cute Barbie girl like you probably has a home to return to...a husband, maybe a kid...y'know. People who love you, and don't want you in a dark church during a crazy-ass storm."

Trixie slid down the wall to her knees, her gaze resting a little below Katya's. "I have an apartment, but...I grew up in this church, y'know? And, well, it has everything I'd want or need, and...sometimes, when things are bad, it's nice to be close to God. I was going to go home, maybe stay another hour, but - well, y'know."

"I get that." Katya leaned her head into her palm. "I mean, the close to God part. There's really something about just standing in that aisle and looking up at the stained glass. I always find...well, I always remember lots of things that I've done wrong, but...also the fuckin' far and few between things I've done right."

"I think coming here was right," the blonde murmured, extending a hand. Katya stared at it for a moment, cocking a brow and pointing to it before lacing her fingers with Trixie's. Energy shot through her body, and she felt her cheeks darken as they held eye contact. Everything whirled around them in that moment, and Trixie's lips moved slowly as she spoke.

"You should come home with me."

The air froze and Katya's jaw locked, her eyes practically bulging out of her head. Trixie's pink lips continued to move, words flying out of her mouth, but the Russian felt as if she had entered a new plane of being. Everything floated, and she sat above the clouds, her knees crossed and her fingers locked with the Godly Woman and her caring gaze. Her sweet intentions, her surprisingly boisterous laugh, her warmth, the precise nature of her face sculpted into marble, stone, and stained glass across the church walls. Her gauzy presence, and the glow surrounding her. Katya felt drunk.

"Katya?"

She tore her gaze away from the pink nails and let out a short breath. " _Prosti_ ," she murmured weakly, letting out a hoarse laugh. "Nobody's said to that me in a long time."

"Wh - you, you rotted-!!" Trixie snatched her hand away and lightly pushed against Katya's shoulder, snickering. "I didn't mean THAT - I just don't like letting dogs loose in a thunderstorm, you can't blame me."

"Don't toe that line, Barbie!" Her hair tumbled down her shoulders as she pulled out Trixie's pink scrunchy, smiling weakly as she handed it back. "But...shit, really, I...That's almost too much. I couldn't."

"Katya, you're coming to my apartment and eating my fucking dirt cake."

"Woah, mama, she's talking like a big girl now...Is dirt cake, like...what're we talkin' about here?" Katya smirked and stood, gesturing for Trixie to do the same.

"I am not so back-country that I would make an innuendo involving dirt cake. I'm from Wisconsin, not Alabama."

"Just asking," she wheezed, before stopping and rubbing her neck. "But...you really don't have to do this. I get the whole Christian kindness morals and everything, but this just. Y'know." Her words hung in the air, and Trixie stared at her.

"Just what?"

"I...I don't...deserve it?"

"See, even you don't believe it. I have a couch-bed and extra blankets and...Well. Want me to be honest with you?"

"Don't you immediately combust into flames if you lie in a church," Katya deadpanned.

"I like you. I thought you were going through some misfortune, but I didn't want to prod. So I think we were brought together for a reason, and I want to help." She held her hand out once more, smiling softly. "Whatever's happening or been happening or will happen, we'll get through it. Deal?"

"... _Spasibo_." Katya took her hand and nodded, as if it was a final step of an emotional contract between the two.

They walked out to the main area, standing before the stained glass art, and the blonde noticed Katya's hesitation in leaving the saints behind.

"They'll be here tomorrow, promise." Trixie guided her to the door, opening it and pointing to a car in the far corner of the parking lot.

"Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Be here tomorrow." Katya pulled the blanket over her head and looked up at Trixie, who beamed down at her. They both knew she wasn't referring to the church, and without explanation, without need for detail or extraneous words, the Godly Woman nodded.

"Of course."

And they walked, hand-in-hand, into the storm. 


	6. Strays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again ! ❤️ I'm really starting to have fun with this one. This chapter is more based around Trixie's view - as fun as it is to focus on Katya's interpretation of Trixie, country barbie deserves a say in it, too. 
> 
> Please enjoy ! Feedback is always welcome - I hope you all like where this is headed.

Trixie wasn't a stranger to taking in strays.

She was used to welcoming the broken and misfortunate. Most recently, an elderly woman had come over five days in a row for tea after her husband died. They had sat together, in silence, comfortable and at peace with the slow pace of the world.

This felt remarkably different.

The stars whizzed by as Trixie pulled into the lot of a small apartment complex. She looked into her rear view to see Katya, frizzy haired and still quite damp, clutching her bag to her small frame. She furrowed her brows and parked the car, not checking to see if she was in the lines.

"You okay back there?"

"I haven't started smoking yet, so we should be fine." The woman in the back seat stared at the window, almost ashamed at her brash nature.

"Nobody's gonna take that bag from you, y'know." She angled her mirror to emphasize her glances at Katya. "And, we're here."

"I know. Or, I mean, I thought so." Her gaze didn't leave the window. "I just...it's. Wow. I, uh, slept on that bench once or twice before," she murmured cheerfully, tapping her nail against the glass.

Trixie took her key and opened the door, shaking her head quickly. "...Okay," she whispered and leaned over Katya's door, pulling it open and coming face to face with the Russian woman who hid further behind her bag. "C'mon, the rain's not as bad - and the longer you shiver in the back of my car, the more drenched I get."

That roused Katya. She jumped out of the car and looked up at the apartment complex, almost like a dog. A small door that led to a lobby - no. A set of stairs - probably, but she didn't want that to be the answer. A door with a sign beside it that looked like it could be an elevator symbol - maybe? She physically deflated when Trixie pointed to the stairs. "Only the second floor, don't worry."

When Trixie cracked open her door, she practically had to push Katya inside.

"Holy fuck, you like pink." The entire room was a blend of lively hot pinks, delicate pastel pinks, and accents of white.

"Uh, yeah, Brenda! Glad you've still got something working up there," Trixie deadpanned, pressed a finger against Katya's temple. "Anyway, put your bag down near the door so we know where it is, and...the couch is right over there in the far corner, the kitchen is right here." She gestured in various directions, noting that Katya not once looked away from her. "Aaand...my room is through that door, and the bathroom is through the door opposite to it. Okay? You can go in there and wash up."

"Uhm."

"Yeah?"

"What is that," Katya whispered, extending a finger toward the back corner.

"What're yo- OH!" Trixie kicked off her flats and launched herself onto the couch, pulling a white ball of fluff into her arms. "This is Princess. And she's perfect."

"Am I awake? Like...am I physically alive? Trixie with a dog named Princess?"

"Yes! Look, when I found her, that's what her collar said and it's the name she responded to, it's not my fault that she fits in with the pink walls and pink couch and pink everything."

"You have a thing for strays, don't you?"

Trixie rolled her eyes and felt her cheeks warm as Katya approached. She leaned down to her knees and looked deep into the dog's eyes before holding out a hand.

"Hello, little dog," the Russian said in a gruff voice. "I'll be your roommate for the night."

Trixie stared for a moment before letting out a screech of laughter. "That's - that's not how dogs work, Katya - they don't shake hands!"

"Some dogs shake hands, you rotten whore!"

"Yeah, but - AHHH - they don't do it like it's the end of a fucking meeting with corporate!"

"Maybe this is a business dog." Katya tilted her head. "Princess, the powerful CEO. As the kids would say, 'I'd die for her'."

"You can't - no, no, I'm putting an end to this right now. Princess is sleeping with me tonight."

"Uhm, excuse me mama? I will not allow you to change up the way you live your life just because you let some rat come stay the night."

"Katya, it's well past midnight, and I just found one of my friends from church trying to sneak into the chapel during monsoon season. I'm going to have to get used to some changes - and you, too."

The woman on the floor sat at attention, eyes wide. "I'll be out of your hair the second the rain passes, no need to start doing cartwheels."

"No, you won't be. I'm setting ground rules."

Katya raised a brow.

"We have two primary goals. Find you a job, and then find a way for you to live on your own." Hopefully this wasn't too obnoxious of her to push this plan on Katya. "I don't mean to be super life coach-y, but...y'know, I have clothes you could wear to interviews, and a place to sleep and shower and all that. Getting kicked out is fucked up and leaves you helpless, and its unfair. We're gonna do everything we can to get you back on your feet in a reasonable manner."

"Wow, you don't sound churchly when you're home, huh? But. Uh. I...I technically was - no, am on my feet. I'm fine with how my life is."

"Okay. Imagine you get sick. Where do you go?"

"Just hope it passes."

"Imagine you end up breaking a bone, somehow. Where do you go?"

"I..."

"Would you at least give it a shot, Katya? I'm not asking you to stop chain-smoking - there's a deck, use it - I don't like seein' people like this. And if you really like living out there, I'm not saying you can't go back. I just worry about safety and shit."

"...Fine. Only 'cus Princess is here." She tapped the dog's tiny snout, smiling to herself.

"I'll take it." Trixie stood up, holding the white pomeranian in her arms. "Now, since we've got the rules, unload your backpack - or whatever you want to have out of it. Make yourself comfortable." She smiled and glanced at Katya,  
who stared at her and the dog. "...You wanna hold her?"

"So desperately. SO desperately, but I couldn't think of a way to slip it into the conversation."

She leaned down, letting the dog bounce down and sniff Katya. "Do you mind if I unpack your bag, then?"

"Yeah, sure, if you want," Katya mumbled, holding her knuckles out for Princess to investigate.

Trixie sighed. The backpack was green and grey and looked as though it had survived nuclear war. The straps were covered in tiny burn marks, the front zipper was torn off, and the one remaining side pocket contained only a few silver coins and some scrunched up singles. "How long have you had this?"

"Maybe...six years? As long as I've been out of the house."

"Woah. Surprised it's still in one piece." She tugged at the top zipper, holding her breath as she peered inside.

Trixie wasn't well versed in what one would have in a backpack they lived out of, but she immediately found a few obvious picks. Two pairs of jeans, a small plastic bag of underwear, a flannel, and a pullover. A toothbrush, an abused bottle of toothpaste, a hairbrush, a handful of tampons. Half of her bag was taken up by what looked like a sleeping bag, rolled up in a ball. She picked out a few items that were unexpected - a fully functioning brass compass, a pair of nail clippers that hid a small knife beneath the base, a rubber chicken, a sock filled with rocks, her pocket knife from the church, a large notebook with a tiny pencil taped to the front, and a half-empty bottle of pepper spray.

"You just...fully lived out of this bag?"

"Yes God I did. Washed my clothes in the rivers by campsites, lived at the soup kitchen for a while, ate maybe...four times a week? Five. Six, if I'm really lucky."

The blonde fell silent, her fingers tapping on her thighs as she examined the contents of the bag laid out on the floor. There was another half of the bag to go through, but this was enough for one night. She turned her gaze to Katya, who was charmed by Princess's ability to stand on her back legs. The Russian clapped her hands together, wheezing before holding open palms out to the dog. When Princess leaned her paws into Katya's hands, she practically screamed, falling onto her back and cackling as the dog crawled over her chest to lick her face.

A particular warmth surged through Trixie. Maybe it was her foggy past, the connections yet to be made, the intrigue of it all. Hell, maybe it was her smoker breath, her messy hair, and her distinct humor. Whatever it was, it seeped its way through Trixie's heart, and as she sat staring at the Russian woman wrap her arms around the tiny white dog, she decided she wanted to know everything there was to know about Katya.

"Katya?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I sleep out here tonight? Or, if you wanna sleep in a real bed, we could-"

Katya's head shot up, eyes wide. "Mama, I thought you said dirt cake wasn't a-"

"NO! You! You know what I mean!" Princess tumbled off of Katya's shoulders and jumped back onto the couch, panting in Trixie's direction. "Usually, when I invite people over, I've known them for years and years. This is new for me."

"Me too, _kukla_."

Trixie walked back to the couch and sat down, running her fingers through her dog's fur and sighing. "I'm also scared shitless you'll run out on me."

"Won't happen. I was thinkin' about it, but then you cracked out your trump card of a dog, and now I'm trapped here." She shot Trixie a toothy smile.

"I hope you're joking. Now, move, dammit, or I'll unload this bed on top of your skinny ass."

"I hope you'll unload something el- y'know what, that was about to go too far, and I'm gonna stop while I'm ahead. Clocking myself on this one." Katya rolled across the floor, not seeing the color that began to creep up Trixie's neck.

"I-I'll sleep wherever is best for you. But either way, we're having a good talk in the morning, okay?"

"Mmm, okay."

It took a solid half hour to wrangle Katya into one of Trixie's sleeping shirts and force a toothbrush into her mouth before she sat on the opened couchbed, her legs crossed as she looked out the balcony window. "If you're sure you won't bolt, I'll leave you to it in this room. And Princess, since you like her so much." Trixie pressed calves against the side of the bed, crouching a bit to look directly at Katya. "But I'm serious about everything I said. You gotta know that."

"Believe me, I do." Katya turned, her chin lifted upward slightly to meet Trixie's gaze.

"Okay. I think...I think I believe you. Then, I guess - Goodnight, Katya."

After a moment, Katya took the blonde's hand, studying it carefully and smiling earnestly before pressing her lips against the pale, freckled knuckles. " _Spokoynoi noch, krasavista._ "

In the pale light of the moon reflecting through the clearing storm, in her small living room with the stray she had loved and the stray she had only recently invited into her heart, Trixie felt her breath lodge in her throat, and she couldn't bear to pull her hand away.


	7. Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I couldn't resist more cutesy kinda-flirty apartment times, so next chapter we'll move into more plot. Hope that's okay, hehe ❤️
> 
> Also, quick note: this fic intentionally reads very differently between Trixie and Katya's POVs. This will probably be the second-to-last chapter for a while in Trixie's POV, the last one coming up in a few chapters - get ready for more confused Russian whore !! 
> 
> Please enjoy! Feedback is always welcome !!

"Katya."

" _Da_?"

"What. Are. You. Doing."

Katya looked up at Trixie, halfway through a slow split, and glanced at the space between her legs and the floor.

"Is it not obvious, _kukla_?"

Trixie grumbled to herself, walking over to the kitchen and beginning the process of her morning tea. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched the Russian woman lower herself tantalizingly close to the ground - only to pull herself back up and start again.

"You didn't tell me you were a rubber band," she said, grabbing lazily for a small cup on the counter. "D'ya like coffee? Tea? Anything?"

Katya looked up at her with wide eyes and jumped to standing position. "Haven't had either in years. I...think I used to drink coffee?"

"M'kay. Come sit." Trixie picked up a larger mug, studying it to make sure it was clean.

"This all feels weird," the Russian mentioned cautiously as she sat down at a bar stool. "I mean...I woke up at maybe...5 in the morning? And it took me maybe ten minutes to remember everything that had happened, and Princess whined a little bit so I took her out..."

Trixie turned back to Katya, surprised. "You...went outside?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to wake you up, but I didn't want your dog to piss all over the place. And I wanted to see what time it was. Y'know. The sun."

"Mmm." She hummed into her cup. Katya came back. Katya had walked out that door and walked back in. She could feel her confidence in her late-night decisions rising - maybe this would end well. "Thank you, then. I shouldn't've slept in late."

"It's fine. I think it works out - I sleep kinda periodically, whenever I can fit it in, and never for too long." Katya fell silent and stared at the cup that Trixie slid in front of her, and the blonde offered an amused smile. "Is this...black coffee?"

"No, but it's as un-sugary as you'll get from my home. Do you like eggs? Scrambled is my specialty. Also, it's the easiest."

"...I don't remember what those taste like."

"Then give 'em a shot for me."

"Anything for _solnyshka moya_."

Trixie turned her back to Katya, an unknown feeling creeping up her shoulders. She knew she felt sad - and for some reason, a little guilty - that Katya didn't know what eggs tasted like. Her genuine nature stunned Trixie: taking her dog out wordlessly, casually saying alarming things like they were nothing. It wasn't that the Russian woman was shameless; it almost seemed like she accepted the state of the world, and was unwavered by whatever was thrown in her direction. She could feel Katya's eyes following her as she pulled out the eggs and cracked them on the corner of the pan, her face reddenning as she thought more about the circumstances.

"Katya."

"Yeah, _kukla_?"

"First off, what does that mean, and why do you keep calling me that?" She turned with the bowl in her hands, whisking furiously.

"Woah, woah, it's not a bad thing. It means doll. 'Cus you look like a Barbie doll. It's like a...term of endearment, I think that's what you call it."

"Oh...Sorry, I didn't mean to come off like that." She sighed, pouring the bowl's contents into the buttered pan. "I was just thinking, and...the next time Princess gets weird, I want you to wake me up."

Katya adjusted her posture in the bar stool. "Should I, uh...not have done that? I said I wouldn't run out on you."

"I don't want you feeling like you owe me anything. Or like I'm on a moral ground above you. I can...handle my own problems. And I don't want you just doing things to please me, either, like accepting coffee you don't want or eating eggs that you don't have any interest in."

"Trixie, leave morals out of it. You don't wanna know what I did for the cigs left in my bag."

"W-well!!" Her cheeks burned at the thought. "I, we...you and I aren't too different! I don't want you doing things you don't want to do!"

"If we aren't that different, why am I, a homeless Russian whore, sitting here drinking coffee you made, in the apartment that you pay for, and watching you, dressed like a cute housewife, make eggs for me - again, the homeless Russian whore - instead of some adoring husband?" Katya brought the cup to her lips, her expression softening. "I'm already stunned that you're doing this for me. I'm fascinated by the thought that you'd do this for anybody, and I'm most certainly not going to deny your kindness. But dammit Trixie, I want to pull my weight, too." She looked away from the blonde. "I felt terrible even talking to you that first time at church. You're this walking angel that who shouldn't give me the light of day, but you did. I couldn't tell you to fuck off, and I felt even worse when I didn't take one of your cakes because I got nervous and ran. I'm having a hard time thinking that God had us meet for any other purpose than to rub in what a shit person I am. So I'm not going to deny eggs or coffee that the angel makes, because that'd be fucking rude, but I'm going to do everything I can to help her while she upturns her world to help me. And, and I'm not gonna wake you up, especially if you're tired from spending all night saving my rat-ass from getting washed away - y'know what else? I've thought of something better."

Katya practically dropped her cup and bounced off the barstool. Before Trixie could even wrap her head around the words hanging in the air, Katya was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. They stood in silence, the pan sizzling as Trixie prodded at the eggs with her spatula, dumbfounded.

"I used all my confidence in saying what was on my mind, and it's just hit me that I have no fucking clue how to make eggs."

The two held eye contact for a moment before bursting into laughter, Trixie dropping the spatula as she screamed and Katya hunched over in a wheezing fit.

"Where - where did you - maybe there's a reason I'm making them then, huh?!"

After a few minutes of recollecting themselves, Trixie returned to cooking and Katya investigated the fridge. The blonde rubbed her neck, trying to process everything Katya had said.

"Mmm...An excess of sweet tea - that's expected - and...I'm guessing you made these cinnamon rolls. Little to no meat?"

"I've been a vegetarian since childhood."

"Jesus Christ, I wasn't kidding about moral grounds."

"So you aren't a God's-name-in-vain Christian?"

"Oh, no way, mama. I'm a hopefully-God-really-meant-it-if-He-made-this-mess-and-I'm-a-bit-nervous-but-willing-to-give-it-a-shot Christian. Also, are eggs vegetarian?"

"Well, I grew up on a farm and had a friend who harvested eggs as a kid. Y'know, the ones that couldn't have hatched, anyway...Like, didn't even get fertilized or anything. He loves chickens, so he wouldn't have let me eat anything I should have."

Katya nodded, not questioning her answer, and Trixie slid the scrambled eggs onto a plate. "Sit. The eggs are done."

The two chatted away, about things that didn't matter, and Trixie could easily imagine wasting the day like this. The Russian slinging pet names one after the other, her fingers drumming against the countertop, her angled features all morphed into a genuine smile.

"I think I'm a nervous Christian, too."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I grew up in that church, but I feel like God has a lot of explaining to do."

"BITCH, that is real! That is very real! I want to know why you're here, why I'm here, why anybody's here, why everything led up to every point. And I came to your church with so many questions, if I was okay or if who I am is okay, but...but a lot has happened, and...and..."

"And?"

"And it just dawned on me, maybe he's answering them." Katya eyes flickered over Trixie's frame for a moment before returning to her plate.

The blonde ran a hand through her loose curls and leaned against the counter. "Really? I'd love to feel like that someday."

"Oh, everybody does. And then they lose it. It's like falling in love, you're so sure it's real and things are good this time, and then suddenly you're pulling a half eaten sandwich out of a dumpster."

"Uhm."

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Oh. Then, yeah, I guess I'd agree. God's love is kinda like a parent's, right? It doesn't always feel like love, but it is nonetheless. Not like some dipshit named Brian who leaves you because you listen to too much Dolly Parton and talk about her incessantly because, I don't know, maybe she's your idol and how can somebody not listen to Jolene and cry alone in their car while speeding down a highway."

A silence fell over the two of them.

"Hypothetically speaking-"

"Oh, of course," Katya finished for her, wheezing a little. "Though, I'm surprised you haven't caught anybody for good, yet. You've done a wonderful job of seducing me with your dog-and-egg combo."

"Thank you, I'm glad somebody appreciates my efforts." She huffed quietly. "I'd say the same for you, but...I know your priorities were elsewhere."

"C'mon, _kukla_ , just say hooking for smokes. I can hear you thinking it."

"No, stop, I mean it! You're really sweet, even if you don't wanna admit it, and I bet you'd get along with loads of people at the church. I saw how you interacted with everybody at the soup kitchen. Nobody had a mean thing to say about you."

"That's reassuring, I guess. But...well, it's one of the things God and I need to figure out." She smiled awkwardly, and Trixie nodded.

"I'm not gonna pry with your past," Trixie began, hesitating slightly. "But...if you want to talk, about people, your parents, what you want moving forward...no bottling shit up. Okay?"

"Alright. For _moy odin yedinstvenny_."

If time could've frozen there, Trixie would've taken more time to think. She would've asked Katya what that meant, why she purred with every endearing word, why she so often averted her gaze, and why her flirty nature made Trixie's head spin. But she didn't.

"We both have a lot to figure out, don't we?"

"Yes we do, Barbie. Yes we do."


	8. Ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm having too much fun with these two!! I love cutesy chapters like this. I was originally only planning for maybe 10-12 chapters, but I think we're looking at maybe 17-20 with how things are moving now. Big things to come, hope you're enjoying !! 
> 
> Thank you, as always. Feedback is encouraged !  
> To consistent readers : Ya dumayu, chto ty bozhestvennyy ❤️❤️

It had been a about a week since the Godly Woman had welcomed Katya into her apartment. In those days, Katya learned a few things about Trixie. She loved to nap, and when she wasn't napping and still in the apartment, she was baking. She loved Dolly Parton and would blast records behind her closed bedroom door, as if either the door was soundproof or Katya was deaf. Trixie had a fascinating way of doing her hair, she loved to walk around wearing just a robe and a towel thrown over her head, she hated - _HATED_ \- pants and would take every opportunity to just wear a long shirt, and Katya would stand in the bathroom doorway every morning for thirty minutes and watch Trixie do her makeup. The two had fallen into a comfortable routine: Trixie showing Katya a few cooking techniques, Katya doing some house chores while Trixie took care of things outside of the apartment, and the two reconvening on the deck for Katya's nightly cigarette and a seemingly endless and meaningless conversation (that, despite being meaningless, Katya looked forward to every evening) with Trixie.

"Katya, do you wanna try anything?"

Katya jumped, her back straightening as she pressed her body against the hinges of the bathroom door. "Uh. Wh. What do you mean?"

"You always watch, I thought maybe you'd wanna give it a shot." Trixie smiled and took her hand, pulling the Russian into the bathroom.

"I just like watching you make yourself pretty, it's interesting." Her eyes glazed over the array of cosmetics laid out on three quarters of the counter space. She couldn't lie - she desperately wanted to tap into the side of her that once drowned in black eyeshadow and red lipstick, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"I wasn't before?"

"Y-you know what I mean," she muttered nervously, trying to hide any sign of embarrassment. "Plus, I, uh...I haven't used any of this stuff since I lived with my parents. I have no idea what to do."

"Then you're in good hands!" Trixie beamed at Katya and placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest with pride. "I've worked at the MAC counter for 3 years, and will be more than happy to help."

"Uh...but how would we-"

"No buts!" Katya blinked, watching the blonde blur whip out of the bathroom and drag a kitchen bar stool back through the door. "Sit, sit!"

She did as she was told, hesitantly looking into the mirror. Trixie stood behind her, playing with Katya's loose hair and pulled it off her shoulders. She shivered at the slight touch of pink acrylics to her neck.

"What can I do for you today, Miss.....Missss....shit, uh..."

"Zamolodchikova."

"Z-zamowhowhatinthewherenow."

" _Zah-moe-loh_.."

"Zaaamooo..." The two sounded out her last name together, and Katya could feel the tension in her shoulders oozing out of her body, quickly replaced with a warm and comfortable feeling.

"Miss, Miss Zamolodchikova!" Trixie lowered her head to Katya's shoulders, looking at the two of them in the mirror. "What would you like today?"

"I..I, I don't know if it'd be church appropriate. I used to wear...red lipstick, smudge black eyeshadow on with my middle finger, rebellious kid kinda-gig."

"Mmm, how about we do that tomorrow?" Trixe spun the bar stool around, her fingers running over Katya's hips as she stopped the chair from spinning with a firm hand on its metal rim. "We'll do something fun, promise. Maybe visit the soup kitchen, too?"

"Then go wild, mama. You're good at just...reading my mind and knowing what I want without me even asking."

Katya knew this would be both a disaster and a dream come true. Trixie's delicate hands, tracing the contours of her face, their noses practically touching as the blonde woman scanned every detail, crook, and cranny. She held eye contact with the Godly Woman, noting the smattering of freckles across her nose and the bit of sun she must've gotten on her cheeks. Her entire face flushed when Trixie grinned, pulling away from Katya and turning to the counter.

"Do, uh...do you do that with everybody who comes in?"

"Oh, no, not at all. You just have really nice bone structure, so there's not a lot for me to work on. I'm gonna have you facing away from the mirror, so it'll be a surprise!"

Katya hummed in response, knowing she wouldn't have looked much in the mirror either way. The blonde seemed so excited, her eyes dazzling as she grabbed a few products and threw them in the large pockets of her pink skirt. "Gosh, if I could, I'd just use you as a facechart all the time. Your cheekbones are closer to God than my hair - and that's saying something."

"I'll do anything you want," she murmured, the words flying out of her mouth before she could process what they even meant. The brush in Trixie's hand froze for a moment, pressing into her cheek, and Katya looked at her with wide eyes. The blonde was staring at her, mouth open in a small circle and eyebrows raised.

"I, uh, I d-didn't-"

"You'd let me?!" she asked, the addictive uptick of excitement in her tone sending prickles down Katya's back. "Really really really really really-"

" _DA, khorosho, khorosho_!" Her hands, without thinking, were wrapped around Trixie's wrists, trying to get her to calm down. "I didn't think it'd make you so happy. Jesus."

"It does, and you better get used to it." Katya knew far too well that she'd love to get used to it.

Watching Trixie work on herself was interesting enough, but getting to see her process face-to-face was surprisingly intimate. She insisted she didn't use fingers on clients - but Katya's special, plus she didn't have any clean brushes on hand - and fell deep into her work. Katya's insides churned when the blonde bit her lip in concentration or wrinkled her nose whenever she stepped back to look over Katya's face. She could've watched forever, even if only maybe five minutes had passed.

"You really like your job, huh?"

"I do! I get to meet all kinds of people, and make small talk and learn about far off places. We get a surprising amount of Europeans dropping by for pre-wedding appointments."

"Am I just another European, then?"

"Mmm, not just _any_ European. And you better not be sneaking off to some fancy wedding - but I can kinda treat you like a client, if you'd like."

"How is that different than how you treat me now?" She tilted her head, only for it to immediately be repositioned by Trixie's gentle hand. " _Prosti_."

"Well, now, I treat you like...like Katya!" It was shameful how excited it made the Russian to have a special brand of treatment from Trixie. "And with clients, it's kinda like a haircut. Like, are you doing anything for the holidays? What do you do for a living? Your Russian accent is really nice, are you visiting or do you live here?"

"No plans, I walk a cute girl's dog but you already knew that because it's your dog, and I don't live anywhere in particular." Her confidence came in waves.

"I-I...Pffft." Trixie stepped back, spinning Katya around to face the mirror and resting her hands on the Russian's shoulders. "There. Done."

Katya's eyes glazed over her reflection, noting the small creative liberties that Trixie had taken. Her brows were more defined, same with her cheeks, and the darkness under her eyes from years of lost time was as best concealed as it could have been. She lifted her chin and inhaled, her entire body and mind at ease. She looked good. She looked _healthy._ Everything, for the first time in as long as she could remember, felt calm. She stared at Trixie's hopeful expression, melting against the touch of her palms, unable to find words for a moment.

"It's...y-yeah, I, uhm.."

Her eyes stung and a look of horror crossed the Godly Woman's beautiful, content face, and she felt so angry and guilty for a fleeting moment.

Trixie spun her around, her hands still clinging to Katya's shoulders. "Is it-! Is it bad, I can redo it I promise, I'm really really sorry, I just thought-"

"Why do you do nice things, Trixie?"

"Huh?" Katya lifted her hands to hold Trixie's forearms and looked up at her.

"I dunno, it just...I just, like...Like when I got pissed because I dropped my cigarette and almost cussed out your neighbors, you didn't get mad...And when I gave your dog pancakes and you clearly told me not to, and then she got sick, you were still kind....And I'm also, y'know, just a big ole' fuck up, mama."

"Nope. Hey. No." Trixie dabbed at Katya's undereye with her ring finger. "Y'know what we're gonna do? We're go to church, excuse ourselves after service, and - remember that sheet of paper you and I filled out?"

Katya nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"I don't know how much of this you know, so please don't think I'm talking down to you. It's called a resume. We're going to drop it off with a few local businesses, and see if any of them call back. I don't want you feeling useless, Katya, and...well, can I take a wild guess?"

She nodded again.

"You need to stay busy. It doesn't feel right just sitting around, does it? And you don't give yourself credit with the little things, like making your own breakfast or buying supplies on your own. You think it's really gross that you lived alone in the world for so long, don't you?"

Silence.

"I think you're amazing, Ms. Zah-moe-loh-chikova."

" _Ya dumayu...chto ty bozhestvennyy_." It was a faint whisper, something Katya knew she wouldn't, couldn't repeat. She let go of the blonde's wrists and smiled up at her.

"Mmm...okay, one second."

Trixie disappeared for a moment, and Katya turned the chair towards the door. Suddenly, her arms appeared from behind the wall, and in them, Princess floated in the air, ears alert when she noticed Katya in the bathroom.

"Now, there's all three of us. And if I can't convince you everything's going to be okay, then I know she can. She's your favorite of our family, right?"

Katya's breath caught in her throat and she met Trixie's eyes when she turned the corner, smiling at the redness creeping into the blonde's cheeks.

"I-I didn't mean..."

"No, I like that. You mean it, _navernyaka_?"

"I..." The dog jumped into Katya's lap, curling into a ball across her knees. She took Trixie's hands and pushed her anxieties and nerves to the side, greeting the glowing Godly Woman with as much confidence as she could.

She wished she could speak all the thoughts running through her head. I will not bring pain. I will not harm you, I will not leave you in times of need. I never wish to make you distressed, I want to bring you as much happiness as you bring to me. I wish to someday be as selfless as you. To love freely, like you. To trust as you do. I hope to learn from you and protect you the best I can.

"I think I like that, too." She squeezed Katya's hands and nodded.

The two were both quick to get ready. Katya ran her fingers through her hair and declared she looked perfect, and Trixie agreed, but decided to throw a few bobby pins in the Russian's curls to help tame a few stray hairs.

Trixie threw a pink bag over her shoulder, looking down at Katya from the door. "Well? You coming?"

"Ah-" Katya looked up from Princess, giving her one final pat before jumping to her feet. "I wanted to...well, when we get back..."

"Yeah?" Trixie responded hurriedly, opening the door and gesturing for Katya to move.

The Russian exhaled slowly, walking to the exit and looking Trixie in the eyes.

"When we get back, I wanna tell you...about my family."


	9. Playtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really in love with past-midnight uploads, do forgive me. 
> 
> As always, please enjoy ❤️ Feedback is well loved. 
> 
> (And extra love to anybody looking up translations! I'm sorry for making you work harder, haha)

The church was quiet as people shuffled to their seats, soft whispers of conversation drifting to the high ceiling and collecting there. Katya began to head for her seat near the back before somebody grabbed her hand.

"Come sit with me." The blonde almost looked...hurt, in fact, at the thought that Katya would sit away from her. An angel, with a gentle expression and the kindest of intentions, clinging to Katya like a lifeline. It felt unreal.

"I'm not gonna run, I promise," she murmured, instinctively lacing her fingers with Trixie's.

"Then can I sit with you?"

" _Khorosho_." She almost brought her hand to her lips, as she so often did at the apartment, but froze mid-way through the action and dropped Trixie's hand. This was different. This world was different, and there was a lot that Trixie didn't know and that Katya could never tell.

She didn't notice, instead smiling and walking back to the row where Katya sat. Katya followed quickly behind and ran a hand through her hair, sitting a comfortable distance from Trixie. It was shameful how calculated everything was. There was enough space between them for both their hands to rest on the wooden booths without their fingers touching. Katya crossed her legs and sighed, pressing her palms together and holding her hands in her lap.

The essence of the church wrapped around Trixie in an intricate way. Her regular church-style of being drenched in pastels seemlessly blended with the softened beiges and whites. She glowed. Glowed like a lost God, meant to be with the saints in the stained glass, but instead sat beside Katya - a wretch. The Russian sighed and flipped through a prayer book.

The routine of the congregation moved quickly. It was a relatively modern church, with quick prayer, lots of song, and a grand reception every week. It was a community of love, of joy, and it was something Katya didn't understand but desperately wanted to. No matter where she sat or who was beside her, she felt distant from the world. She floated somewhere below the congregation, darkness pooling at her feet.

The event ended with a quiet prayer. The priest, with his rich and commanding voice, called out to the congregation, who in turn responded like obedient children.

_...we humbly beseech thee,_  
 _of thy goodness, O Lord_ ,  
 _to comfort and succor all those who_ ,  
 _in this transitory life_ ,  
 _are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness,_  
 _or any other adversity_.  
 _We thank You for protection,_  
 _not only over ourselves,_  
 _but over our loved ones as well._  
 _O God, inflame my heart with love. I pray that You will make Your voice clear in my heart._  
 _Thank you for leading me,_  
 _guiding me as I listen to You in Jesus's name._

Like a roar in an empty desert, the congregation errupted in amens, and Katya looked at Trixie. She beamed with light. She wouldn't stop, God dammit, she couldn't. Her long hair, her wide smile, shining eyes. The swirling feeling caught in Katya's throat, a flurry of thoughtless words clinging to the tip of her tongue.

" _Kak ya ne mog...v tebya vlyubit'sya_."

"Mmm?" Trixie glanced at her, eyes wide.

Those words, however, were anything but thoughtless.

Katya laughed them off, shaking her head and waving a hand. Service continued. She watched Trixie dutifully recite the hymnals, her voice and upper body swaying with the beat. She watched Trixie smile and laugh with those around her as service came to a close, and the bubbling feeling returned to Katya's chest as she entered the reception area.

"Who's this?"

Katya snapped to attention and met the gaze of a taller man, giving him a quick once over.

"I, this - this is Katya! She's a new member of the church, and...And I wanted to her to feel at home with us all, that's why I sat near the back. She walks Princess for me while I'm at work."

"We missed sitting with you, but...how sweet of you," an older woman said, ruffling Trixie's hair with her leathery hands. "Such a good girl. I raised you right."

"Raised you to push your problems onto other people," the man scoffed.

The older woman ignored the man, instead choosing to smile meekly at Katya and extend a hand. "I'm Trixie's mother, I'm glad she has a friend in the congregation." Katya's eyes flicked to Trixie, who looked distant and foggy, as she took the woman's hand.

"I'm...glad your daughter is so kind," Katya responded, posing her best accent-less voice. "Thank you for letting me borrow her this week." It apparently worked, as the older woman shook her hand gently before pulling back. The man beside her said nothing.

"You can borrow her as long as you like, dear. Trixie, we've got to get going - promise you'll say hello to everyone for us?"

"Of course, mom."

And like that, they were gone.

Katya watched Trixie's expression morph from empty to relief to distressed before finally landing on a small, half-hearted smile as she turned to Katya. "Uhm...wanna head home now?"

The drive was silent. Katya watched Trixie's hollow gaze the entire time.

Once at the apartment, the two settled into their routine - Trixie making herself some tea, and Katya watching from the barstool beside the counter. She sat with her chin resting in her palms and her fingers curled against the side of her face, watching the blonde's bun bob back and forth as she moved.

"He, uh...he never comes to service," Trixie murmured, her back still turned. "And...uh...I kinda...freaked out."

"Who? Your dad?"

"Step-dad. We aren't on good terms."

Katya hummed in response. "Tell me about it. Your mom seems nice, though. I liked the quick thinking with the dog walking lie."

"It wasn't a lie, it...a truth that kinda seems like a lie given the circumstances. And she is, she really is, but...Y'know, everybody's different when they love somebody."

_Again, fucking tell me about it._ She trapped the words in her mouth and coughed as Trixie turned towards her and leaned against the edge of the counter. "Yeah...no, I get it, _kukla_. My parents...did their best, given the circumstances."

"Want a drink?" Trixie brought her cup to her lips.

"Nah. I went sober when I was nineteen."

"Nineteen, good God."

_I pray that You will make Your voice clear in my heart._ "I want to tell you everything, Trixie."

The blonde gestured to her, smiling softly. "And..?"

"But I can't. So I...I need to ask you to not...not prod with one thing, okay?"

"Alright."

"You can't ask me why I got kicked out."

"Okay." Without missing a beat, Trixie nodded and walked away from the counter. Katya turned to see her dropping onto the couch, waving to the Russian. "And I require that Princess hears everything to, and that maybe you hold her when you say it because it'll help her listen."

An angel on earth.

Katya sat across from Trixie, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face resting on top of her knees. "Okay, so...my mom is great. Was great. No, she is great, I won't deny her of that. She encouraged me to do gymnastics as a little kid, and, and she was always there for me. I mean, almost always. She drank and smoked a lot, so she was kinda the...the cool mom? And she liked that I was a little bit more of a rebel. I think she related to it."

"I wish you had pictures."

"They, uh...they probably do. But, my dad was kinda...the more strict one. And the "hide all your Russian-ness with a good American smile" one. He got the green card for our family. My mom kept flags and pins and statues of Lenin's head, whereas my dad - who didn't stay around the house a lot - just wanted to be American. He didn't want to stick out, he didn't want his wife to stick out, and he didn't want his little emo-ass daughter sticking out either. He didn't like that my mom taught me Russian. He was really religious, and...people in the church I grew up in, they didn't treat my mom well." Katya inhaled sharply. "But, uhm, I don't really think she was religious? I just think she needed somebody to follow, and that somebody wasn't even God, it was my dad.

"So...so when they found something out that...made it a lot less easy for me to be the American daughter they wanted, they...he kicked me out. And my mom did jack shit when I left. I stayed in the area for two weeks. She didn't look for me or anything. She didn't visit the houses she knew I'd be staying at, or...do much of anything other than accept I was gone."

She realized she had tightly closed her eyes, and opened them to see Trixie sitting exactly as she was. The blonde nodded, urging her onward.

"There weren't any people like you in the church I grew up in. They all just let me go. I was seventeen. And...A-and I thought, I thought that maybe that's what God wanted for me. So I rejected Him entirely, and as the friends I was living with began to leave the area and go to college or, y'know, be successful, I...I hit the road. I used the last of my money to get a good knife and some weapons. My bike was stolen, uhm...last fall? Maybe the fall before? Everything just always felt like...like everything was destined to leave." The words hung in the dry air between them. "That's why I smoke a pack a day and eat twice a week," she grumbled, playing up on her smoker voice and glancing at Trixie, who didn't laugh.

The two stood at the same time, walking to the back deck. Katya lit a cigarette and took a drag from it, exhaling only a small cloud of smoke. The ash settled over the buzzing feeling in her lungs, pulling her down from the high of Catholic-style confession with her Godly Woman.

"I dunno why I needed to tell you all that. Like, I'm fine, right? I'm really good. Better than I've been in....so long. So fucking long. And I literally can't run away from you, Trix, I know said I wouldn't but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. It feels like...God's just got a finger to my head, holding me in place. And I'm really happy about it. I'm happy, promise. But, if I ever up and run, I...know that it's not because I wanted to. It's just what I'm used to doing."

They stood together, looking out onto the darkening sky. Small stars twinkled through the clouds, and Katya breathed in the familiar air.

"My step-dad is the religious one, too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Trixie turned to lean her back against the deck's fence. "My mom was all about letting me pick whatever religion interested me, and I...well, I'm half Native American - and I'm not one of the white people who thinks my grandma is Pocahontas, promise - so I was kinda interested in that side of my...family history? If that's the word? But when he came into the picture...we all started going to church together. And I love the people there, don't get me wrong, but. It's really weird to think that an alcoholic who...isn't the greatest, morally, forced his family to go to church and then stopped going himself."

"Why was he there today, then?"

"Dunno. That's why I kinda spaced out there, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him in a while. I kept going to church because I was their main pianist, and I loved the people, and I thought that maybe God would help me...understand my step-dad's role in my life. Among other things."

"Has He?"

"Has He helped you any?" Trixie snapped, turning her head to Katya.

"I could say that He gave me you, but...I like to think that was more you than God playing with us like dolls."

Trixie stared at her through the illuminated clouds of smoke snaking from Katya's lips. Her expression was unreadable.

"Can I try?"

"Woah, church Barbie...I couldn't be a bad influence to you, I'd never forgive myself."

"Mmm, I could just go out and buy them if you don't lemme try."

"Acting bratty won't get you anywhere," Katya muttered, trying to ignore the fact that it got Trixie everywhere with her. She took a small puff and turned her fingers, holding the flickering end of the cig towards her chest.

It was painfully obvious that Trixie had never smoked before. She nervously glanced at Katya, leaning down as the Russian brought the cig to her lips. It might've been the tiniest puff she'd ever seen in her life, and she held back laughter as the blonde coughed and sputtered.

"Fuck - that's - I - how do you -"

Katya wheezed and slammed her hand on the banister, small fleck of ash falling in the night. "You're too cute and innocent, you could never be a chainsmoking old corpse like me."

"I'll take cute, not innocent." She reached up, wiping her middle and pointer finger across Katya's lips. The Russian stumbled back, the railing barely keeping her from falling to the ground.

"W-wh-"

She held up her fingers, smeared with pink. "Pink doesn't look good on you - plus, it's kinda my thing, remember?"

Katya froze, mouth agape as she looked at the cig between her fingers. It was covered in pink lipstick - so much so that it was surprising any remained on Trixie's face.

"I-"

"Let's go watch an Animal Planet documentary and cry over some penguins."

And she walked back into the apartment, her body swaying with each step.

The Russian's gaze flicked between her cigarette and the glowing figure walking away from her. She took one last drag, sighing as she pressed the end of the cig into the railing and wiped at her mouth.

_O God, inflame my heart with love._

" _Eto pizdets_ ," she murmured, smiling as she followed the woman inside.


	10. Understand

"Every thrift store in town."

"Yup."

"Every cafe in town."

"Check."

"That antique store where you said a nice woman let you sleep on a couch she put out for garbage pickup."

"Done and done."

"Alright then, we did it! Didn't expect it to take almost a week, but we did it. What do we do now?" Trixie leaned into the driver's seat, one arm draped lazily across the wheel and soft smile on her race. Katya had one leg on the dashboard and the other tapped quietly against the car floors as she looked Trixie up and down.

She wondered where her passenger's head was. The Russian didn't seem beyond ecstatic over all the work that went into resumes and applications and job interviews, but she looked peaceful.

"I haven't been to the soup kitchen since I last saw you there."

"Huh." Katya put her other leg up and laughed, running her hands through her hair. "I dunno, it might be weird...I kinda disappeared without a word. It's like a homecoming where you've won the lottery and everybody else hasn't. They might be mad." She frowned and turned her head to Trixie. "Is this, uh, is this me doing that thing where I make up problems and avoid situations because of the problems I dreamed up in my head?"

"Look at her, all self-aware and shit." Trixie giggled and threw the gear shift forward, propelling them out of the lot they were parked in and onto the road.

"So." Katya inhaled deeply, clenching her fists against her thighs. "Could I, uhm...could I work your job? Handing out food? I promise I don't have anything too transmittable."

Trixie's eyes widened as she turned off the main road. "Well..." Would they let her? Would they recognize her? She was sure that the kitchen would always take new volunteers, but the circumstances were a little strange. "I'll see what I can do for you, how about that?"

"Thank you." Her tone was warm and fond. It felt...good, almost rewarding in a sense.

"Do you have a lot of friends there?"

"Mmm, a few? I was more of a freakshow character - not the bearded lady, I know, I wish, but they always love someone who doesn't speak English."

"Can't blame them. You do have an air of mystery to you."

"Is it mystery?"

"Maybe. Maybe it's just the smoke."

Katya wheezed and slapped her knee, pulling her legs off the dashboard and doubling over. The blonde's heart buzzed. Katya and her habits had always been charming, but to see someone genuinely slap their knee over a subpar joke was beyond any pet name or comment about Trixie's hair.

"Alright, ground rules if they even let you in the kitchen," Trixie began sternly as she parked. "You have to wear a hairnet. No smoking in the back. No eating any of the food. Wear gloves when handling food. Sneeze into your elbows."

"Yes ma'am." Katya sat erect and gave a small salute before getting out of the car. "What're you gonna do, then?"

"Probably...play guitar in the back, or loan mine to anyone who wants to play it. Usually some kids always love to learn a chord or two." She glanced at Katya, who had poked her head back through the car door at the mention of a guitar with a curious expression on her face. "Look, old man, I can teach you some when we get home."

"Home." The word rolled off the Russian woman's tongue. "Okay. Sure."

The inside of the soup kitchen was packed, like usual. Trixie managed to get Katya in the kitchen, and the Russian shot her a thumbs-up as she watched her introduce herself to the regular staff. She could only hope they'd be kind.

With her guitar slung over her shoulder, Trixie made her way to the back corner of the room, settling herself down on a bench with her back pressed against the wooden table. A few regulars migrated towards her, waving and smiling as they sat near the blonde woman. Their children followed and sat on the floor in front of Trixie. They reminded her of herself at Sunday school, so many years ago.

She played a few chords, chatting with a mother who held a small baby to her chest. Soft music, with love entwined in each note. Trixie strummed and plucked at a few strings, nodding as they spoke before turning to the kids.

"A love song!"

"No, love is gross!" A small boy stuck out his tongue at the girl who dared suggest such a thing. "I wanna hear a hate song, nobody writes those."

"How about something in-between?" Trixie asked, leaning over her guitar to smile at the two kids. The mother raised a brow and shrugged. She strummed a few times to check her tuning, inhaling deeply as she began to play.

" _Please pick me up on my long walk back home._  
_Give me something to eat for I'm weak to my bones._  
_Hold me tight in your arms, give me glimmers of hope,_  
_do not love me, though_."

She repeated the last line a few times and hummed a few chords, her fingers plucking at the strings. This wasn't a song she'd spent hours perfecting the exact notes and time, but it flowed out of her in an honest way. The rhythm was repetitive and an older woman picked up on it quickly, humming along. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she could see Katya's figure standing at the end of the empty serving line, her shoulder pressed against the brick structure.

" _Introduce me to friends, make excuses for me._  
_I will tug on your coat when I'm ready to leave._  
_Please don't let me stop you from thinking you are free,_  
_don't fall for me_.  
_Don't fall for me_.  
_Do not fall for me._ "

"Oh, I get it! That's definitely a love song!"

"No, it's not," the boy responded matter-of-factly, completely disregarding the fact that Trixie still intended on playing. He shoved a chunk of bread in his mouth and held up a finger. "One, she literally said not to love her, two, she said 'do not love me', and three, she said she didn't want to be loved!"

"You have no idea how girls work," the smaller girl huffed, staring at Trixie with intense eyes. "Right?"

"Well, uhm...I actually don't know, haha." She glanced over her shoulder again, mouthing ' _help me_ ' to Katya - who, in turn, waved and returned to the kitchen. "It's...well, maybe you're both right. Love's weird."

"Amen to that!" The boy cheered and lifted a piece of turkey in the air, and the mother sighed and murmured something about repeating everything his father says. All the kids around them began to choose sides, and Trixie felt the surge of spoken war growing between the two parties. She desperately held out her guitar to them, asking if they'd like to learn a few chords, and the argument was dropped immediately.

Hours could've past, she would've had no idea. Tiny fingers wrapped around the neck of her guitar, desperately trying to reach all six strings, errupting in cheers when they strummed a wobbly, mostly-correct chord. She'd given out so many high-fives to so many small hands that it was shocking when she turned and saw the sun going down. Trixie stood, beaming as the kids yelled thanks to their favorite ' _Miss Trixie_ ' or ' _Miss Guitar Lady_ ', and waved to them as she walked away.

The crowd was truly thinning out, with small groups gathered around certain tables and an empty line at the cafeteria. She said goodnight to as many people as she recognized while making her way to the kitchen, excited to see Katya. She loved telling the Russian about work - be it at the mall, within the church, or her other volunteering. She wanted to teach her a few chords, maybe even a simple song. And, though she couldn't even admit it to herself, she wanted to hear Katya's hypnotizing Russian accent laced around each word that she sang.

She stopped abrubtly, guitar held close to her chest, when she saw Katya speaking quickly with a tall, terrifically skinny woman at the counters. Her hair was breaking free from the hairnet, and there was something different about her demeanor. Fear, desperation...whatever it was, it froze Trixie in place, and she just watched.

The slender woman wore skin-tight leather, her black hair snatched against her skull and pulled back into a top-knot - and when she turned, her large bangs and angular features gave off a distinct air of pride and elegance. The woman smiled at Trixie, almost acknowledging her attempt to eavesdrop, and turned back to Katya before quickly leaving.

Trixie rushed over, slinging the guitar across her back and slamming her acrylics against the countertop. "Katya! Who _was_ that? She was tiny," the blonde hissed, a small smile crossing her face. "I have never, ever seen her before - or a waist that small before - is she a rich donor or something? What was she doing at a soup kitchen? Do you know her?"

"Uhm, uh, I...I couldn't tell ya, _kukla_." Katya looked worn, her eyes distant as she avoided Trixie's gaze. "Let's...c-can we go back to your apartment? I, uh...She..." Everything seemed off. Katya was rattling verbally and physically, with any part of her face that could twitch twitching and any part of her that could nervously tap at the ground or the table tapping away.

"So you did know her?"

"Yeah, uhm...I...I-I'm kinda...panicking, too, and that's really hard to say and it kinda feels like there's an earthquake and a hurricane at the same time and I can't get my heart to stop beating like this so I might be dying, a-and-"

"Shush." Trixie brought a finger to her mouth and jumped over the counter, grabbing one of Katya's shaking hands. "Hey. You trust me, right?"

The Russian shuddered and nodded. " _Konechno_."

"Alright. Come with me."

Mere minutes later, Katya was laid across the backseat of Trixie's car, her feet hanging out the door. Trixie was sitting in the passenger seat backwards with her back against the glove compartment, strumming quietly and humming as the car buzzed beneath them.

Katya's quickened breathing broke her heart in pieces, and it was hard to tell what way her heart broke. She knew it would be wrong to hug the woman, as she had in the church however long ago, but that didn't mean that she didn't desperately want to. Her humming felt motherly, like a wordless lullaby, and she swayed back and forth. The city murmured quietly around them, with cars rushing past on the road and street lights flickering in the distance, and Trixie's entire soul resonated with the beat of Katya's wheezing - yet slowing - breaths.

" _Kukla_ ," she groaned, sitting upright. She sighed, bringing a steady hand to her chest, fingers clutching at her shirt. " _Kogda vy ostavite menya_?"

The blonde continued to hum, trying to read Katya's face.

" _Vy ostavite menya? Mne strashno._ "

"Are you feeling better?"

" _Ya ne khochu prichinit tebe vred_." She sat forward, leaning closer to Trixie. Her face warmed as Katya stared at her with dark, saddened eyes.

"You know I don't understand-"

"That's the point," the Russian murmured, tilting her head and not breaking eye contact. "You wouldn't either way."

They sat like that for a while, Trixie's fingers instinctively strumming away as her eyes flicked over Katya's face. There was so much intention with each movement, every thought that Trixie couldn't hear running marathons through Katya's head, and each Russian word that Trixie wished she could understand.

Finally, she smiled, giving up on trying to pick apart Katya's expression. There was a lot about Katya that Trixie would never understand. Maybe it was because there was a lot Katya didn't want to talk about, maybe it was because there was a lot that neither of them wanted to talk about. In the dark of the night, she took everything she knew about Katya and wrapped it within herself, storing it with everything else she held dear to her heart. She sorted through every word, every option, and every offer she could put forth to Katya in this state, and watched the Russian woman flinch in her seat when she opened her mouth.

"Do you wanna smoke on the way home?"

Katya blinked twice, and Trixie could practically see the tension leaving her shoulders.

"Oh, _lyubov_ , more than anything." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the end this time, woo! 
> 
> We intro'd a new character, sang some songs, and fell in love a little bit more. Regarding updates : my semester starts on the 22nd, so expect mid-day updates on Mondays and Wednesdays, with some extra content every once in a while!
> 
> Trixie sang the song "Strawbear" by, again, Keaton Henson - I think it's a decent representation of their relationship at the moment.  
> More importantly, the song I imagined Trixie playing for Katya during her panic attack is "Food is Still Hot" by Karen O - it's really nice, do listen if you have the time! 
> 
> Russian translations (thank you for suggesting this!❤️):
> 
> kukla: doll  
> konechno: of course  
> kogda vy ostavite menya?: when will you leave me?  
> vy ostavite menya? mne strashno.: will you leave me? i'm scared.  
> ya ne khochu prichinit tebe vred: i don't want to hurt you.  
> lyubov: love 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and feedback is always welcome. ❤️


	11. Phone

Watching Trixie go to work was hard. Katya had no idea what to do in the lonely air of the apartment - plus, kicking it with a poofy, pampered dog wasn't too easy when she smelled like nothing but nicotine. Trixie hadn't pushed any further about her past, but the blonde had become accustomed to her occasional panicked moment. And every time, without fail, Katya ended up splayed across the couchbed with Trixie strumming gently on her guitar.

She loved it. Too much, almost - it scared Katya. Everything about Trixie scared her. Without words, Trixie had a way of weaving through Katya's entire history, picking apart pieces and explaining exactly why things ended the way they did. All paths lead to her figure, halo and all. With God given power and the heart of hearts, Katya hated how all good things came to an end.

The phone that Trixie left on the counter buzzed quietly, and Katya jumped up to investigate.

She took the square in her hands, pressing the home button and squinting at the bright light. There was an incoming call, with a string of numbers she couldn't quite understand. Her eyes darted between the green and red buttons, and her chest began to tighten as she tapped Accept.

"H-hello..?"

"Katya, I...I didn't think you'd pick up."

The Russian immediately smiled, pressing a hand to her cheek. "I don't really know what I'm doing. Not ever, actually. But are you okay, what's going on? I thought you said work was a bitch who didn't call home."

"I know...today's just been rough. I had a really awful mother-in-law-to-be and a couple of kids tried to shoplift, and...I know I shouldn't be mad at them, but I just got stressed out and picked up the work phone behind the counter without thinking."

"I'm sorry, _kukla_. I'd come beat the shit outta them if I could." God be in their favor if Trixie ever pointed them out to Katya in a crowd.

"Yeah...openly crying in a public mall isn't the greatest look, huh."

"Anything looks good on you. But...y-you cried, mama? Is there anything I can do?"

"Hold Princess real close for me."

"You got it."

She heard a shaky sigh on the other end of the line. "Thank you. For some reason, work gets worse when your home life gets better."

"Awww, Trix, you miss us?"

"Yeah." Katya's eyes widened and her face flushed. That wasn't uncommon these days. "Can we walk Princess tonight together? Let's eat on the deck, and..."

"You only have a few more hours left," she murmured. "No matter who comes in, know that your cotton round of a dog and once-Russian-Hooker turned Russian-domestic-chainsmoker of a friend will be waiting for you. And we can make whatever you want, do whatever you want, and do it for however long."

"Ugh, fuck, I'll try not to sound so ugly when I get home..." Soft sniffles subsided on the other end. "I wanna get dumb-bitch drunk, watch bad knockoffs of Downton Abbey on PBS, and fall asleep on the floor."

Katya wheezed, shaking her hands before leaning against the table. "I promised I wouldn't enable anything but that sounds fantastic."

"Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to yet?"

"Well...no, not yet."

"That's not a bad thing," the voice said softly, rich with a delicate nature.

"It's not a good thing eeeitheeerrr. I should come into work with you sometime. Be the little kid that smears lipstick all over my face. Touch everything I can."

"Mmm, that's what you do in the morning anyway."

"Hey, I saved you from feeling bad about buying red lipstick despite you saying you hate it with a burning passion. Though I still hold that it makes you look like a God-hating woman who's fond of latex, and I've never once been upset about that." Katya laid down on the couchbed, her body feather-light. Princess curled onto her chest and huffed. It felt too right.

"Well, it makes you look like a...u-uhm...like a really cool lady I wouldn't have the balls to approach at a coffee shop."

"Yeah?"

"You'd order black coffee, look at me in the line behind you with that 'yeah, and?' look that you do really well, and I'd swoon and never see you again."

"Somebody's giving fantasy-me a little too much credit. She'd probably look at you, cough up a pack of cigs, and be too ashamed to say a word."

"Maybe. I still wouldn't be upset about it. That's what you do now, anyway."

"Shut up, you whore!"

"Make me." Katya froze a little, about to speak, before getting cut off. "Oh, shit, sorry, I think I have to go, break's over. Be home soon, okay?"

In the hours that passed, the Russian may have napped, smoked on the deck, pulled out Trixie's whiskey and set it on the counter - nothing too productive. She found herself standing in the small patio in front of the apartment door, twiddling with half of a burnt cig between her fingers. A wave of guilt washed over her - this was too much. Too domestic. Too...expectant. Any day now, that phone could ring, Katya could have been hired, and the Godly Woman's kindness could be put to use elsewhere with other people. She didn't have to extend a hand to Katya for the rest of her life. In fact, she knew that Trixie wouldn't.

The apartment was riddled with hints about Trixie's life, things that Katya was too afraid to ask about. Photographs of a young blonde wearing pink cowboy boots, various Dolly Parton albums in all forms scattered around, a strange harp-like instrument hidden between a shelf and the farthest wall, piles of letters, and hand-written sheet music - lyrics and all. It was hard to not idealize her. A beautiful, young woman who writes music and is kind to a fault. It was fucking hard, and Katya forced herself to pick Trixie apart in search of flaws and inconsistencies. But she only found a delicate vulnerability, which was horribly endearing.

"Have you been waiting out here for me?"

Katya's eyes widened and she looked over the banister to see her Godly Woman standing below. The sky had deepened over the hour, and she couldn't recall just how much time had past.

"Definitely not."

"Sure."

She sat across from Trixie, who could handle alcohol better than one would think. Thoughts racing. Heart strained, just a little bit. All focused on the shining light that sat before her.

"And like...y'know, it's not my fault shit's out of stock, right? I hate crying at work, fuck, the last time I cried was after a stupid break-up. But this time, instead of awkwardly comforting me, the old lady made fun of my sensitive ass and didn't believe me when I told her I wasn't crying."

"I wouldn't have, either."

"Well, she left with fucked up brows and I still got paid. So." The blonde huffed into her glass, sighing as she put it down. "It's just getting harder to be happy for people who come in. Like, the first bride-to-be, you're like-" She inhaled before switching to her valleygirl voice. " _Oh my god, Britney, I just can't believe it, oh wow, he's totally the one I'm like so happy for you_ , but...But by the fifth, you feel all cynical and you start thinking about divorce."

"Isn't divorce a sin or something?" Katya tilted her head, letting the cigarette hang from her lips.

"I mean, sure, but a shitton of other things are sins that I doubt God would care about."

"Like?" Her jaw clenched and she pulled the cig from her mouth.

"Y'know, just outdated things. Or things that were misinterpreted. A lot of the things in the Bible get flung around by old men who've never read it in their lives."

"But didn't God put them on this planet for a reason?"

"Yeah, and maybe that reason was to build a farm or hold up the institution of this congregation whenever an elder passes on, but...if God put me on this planet for any reason at all, it's to call bullshit on old-fashioned Christians and emulate Dolly Parton to the best of my abilities." Trixie held her glass with both hands, furrowing her brows as Katya stared at her. A few moments passed before the Russian spoke.

"You really do look like her."

The blonde's eyes widened and she leaned forward, putting the glass down and resting her jaw in her hands.

"Really?! You mean iiiit?"

"I mean. Yeah. But like, young Dolly Parton - no offense to older Dolly, you just aren't there yet, _kukla_."

"Is it more than just the hair, though? Anybody I meet just talks about the hair. It's not just the hair. I swear."

"No, you're right. It's lots of things. The big earrings, the country twang - everything's big, y'know? Big and country. You're a little bit - no, no, you're a lotta bit country, mama."

She giggled - which felt distinctly different from her usual shrieks of laughter - and downed the rest of her drink. "All this hard work wasn't for nothing...You're one of the only people who hasn't found a problem with my - what do they call it, my look? My aesthetic?"

"I think it's cute, why would I make fun of it," Katya deadpanned in a moment of bravery. "You're literally the only person who hasn't hated me for looking like a bar-hopping, chainsmoking hooker. There's a reason I sat in the back of your church - I'd scare the Lord out of the kids who come to service."

"Really? I don't think you look scary. I probably would've...y'know, like, been a little nervous around you in high school, but that's about it."

"I would've been more than nervous around you in high school. A little Barbie doll running around, talking about Jesus and being nice to everybody? I sucked my own blood in high school. I probably would've burned if I was within a fifty-foot radius of you."

"You did _what_."

"Okay, look, being goth back then was super cool-"

"And it isn't now?" She cocked a brow, and Katya could feel her gaze raking over her red lipstick and smudged eyeshadow.

"I never said I was perfect. That's your job."

"These cooomplimeeeents....They're gonna start going to my head, Miss Zamolodchikova," the blonde murmured. "Be a good, Christian husband and get me another glass."

"No, this good, Christian husband will tell you that you're just tipsy enough to not wanna behead yourself in the morning. Gotta cut you off, _kukla_."

"Mm, I wanna divorce." She sighed. "Actually, no, you're, like, ten times better than any man I've let into this apartment."

"You really do turn into a little valleygirl when somebody gets some booze into you, huh?"

"Is it bad?"

" _Nikogda_. Wouldn't change a thing."

"You better only talk to me like that." Trixie pouted, pushing the glass towards Katya. "You really don't want any, though?"

"No, I gave up the party scene a long time ago. I was too wild. It's fun watching other people make mistakes, just not me, not anymore."

"What other things have you given up?"

"How long do you have." The blonde didn't move - just stared intently. "Okaaay, if you mean it. I gave up...alcohol, drugs, the thought of ever having a long withstanding relationship with anybody, love entirely, a pack of cigarettes when I found a cockroach in the box..."

"That's. That's a lotta things."

"Yeah, I'm mostly upset about the cigs."

"Have you ever lived with anybody like this?" Trixie immediately pulled back after the words left her mouth. "I mean, if you're okay with talking about it."

"Might as well. Yeah, I did, but never for this long. It was usually a few days at a time, and then I'd get kicked out or get scared."

"Get scared?"

"Yeah. Get scared of them kicking me out, so I'd just do it for 'em. It doesn't feel good using people. Especially when I'm out of the house and job because of my own shortcomings, not theirs."

"Nooo, it's your parents' fault, remember!"

"I don't blame them. Never have. I couldn't be the kid they wanted, so they kicked me out. I was upset about it for a long time, but then it really stopped making sense to be upset."

"I could never be the kid my parents wanted me to be - I mean, I could always be the kid my mom wanted me to be, but she's cool with anybody, y'know? It's my stepdad who's....out here thinking he's the one and all...The only reason I'm not the kid my mom wants is because I don't like him."

Katya sucked in a cheek, examining the blonde. Liquor loosens lips, she knew that all too well, but it would be cruel to prod further, regardless of how long she intended on staying.

"He's all like ' _why haven't you gotten married_ ' and ' _why do you still go to that damn soup kitchen_ ', acting like it's all a waste of my time. When y'know what? He should just...leave my family alone. It's hard to be happy and seem visibly socially acceptable."

"That's too real, mama." She coughed to one side, pressed the cig against her pant leg under the table. "I know I couldn't. The times I was socially acceptable - at least with the crowd I hung out with - I was at my lowest. My highest was..." Katya paused for a moment, hating the fact that she had to lie. "Well, smoking on the riverbank. Alone."

Trixie remained silent, looking down at her hands in her lap before quietly speaking up. "Does...does that mean I acted like my stepdad?"

"Oh?"

"Did I force you to come here with me? Like, did I find you at a moment of weakness and force you into my standards of living?"

Katya tilted her head. Fuck. Lying really does get you nowhere. "Should I be really honest with you, Barbie? Especially since you're kinda tipsy and it's easier to tell you this now than later?"

Silence.

"My highest moments have probably all been replaced since I met you. And I don't think it'd be the same if I just went back to the riverbank and smoked alone anymore, it'd feel like something was missing, and I dunno what I'd do without it."

Maybe Katya was feeling sincere. Maybe she had decided to stop lying to herself and Trixie, and maybe she was setting herself up to crash and burn. Her heart pounded and she stared at the woman across the table. God had no jurisdiction over the way this went anymore. She could get kicked out, she could be ostracized from the church, but to think that a new high in her life had been reached was wonderful. Whichever path this led her down, Katya had lived and breathed with ease for the first time in a long while, and she granted herself the right to be happy about it and express gratitude.

" _Spasibo tebe za vse. Vse podrugomu_."

"One of those means thank you, right? Spah-sea-bah?"

Katya blinked and looked at Trixie, who was beaming so genuinely at her. "I...yeah. Yeah, it does, you remember?"

"You always slip into Russian when you're tired, so I better start remembering some things."

"Can I ask you something really kind of stupid and about labels that I don't really believe in but it's kind of important to me right now in this exact moment?"

"Mhm."

"Am I staying here, or do I live here?"

Trixie reached across the table, pulling Katya's arms above the table and lacing their fingers together.

"I mean, if you'll have me," she murmured in her sweet, less-than-sober Southern voice, "I like the sound of live better."

She stared at the blonde, toeing the line of love and loneliness, trying to figure out which was worse.

She wanted to believe her. 

" _Spasibo_." 

But she couldn't. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love dialogue between these two, damn. Sorry for the delay, it was a combination of this chapter feeling more personal and working on my class schedule. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, feedback is encouraged! ❤️ I love this place where Trixie and Katya are with each other. Wish we didn't have to leave it soon. 
> 
> kukla - doll  
> nikogda - never  
> spasibo tebe za vse. vse podrugomu - thank you for everything. everything is different.


	12. Caught

It was a disgusting feeling.

Katya laid out on the couch bed, staring at the ceiling. She thought about warmth and skin. About lipstick on her cigarettes, smudged on her lips and fingers. It all pooled in her stomach, pulling her downward.

Trixie was probably going on a date today.

She didn't have work, and she didn't take the car. She had just walked out the house and took the phone with her, so Katya had no way of finding her. There was no reason to think it was a date, but the Russian's head had its ways.

She spent fourty-five minutes in the bathroom. She did her hair differently. She seemed nervous when Katya greeted her in the morning, and she had to rush out before eating for one reason or another. And she had looked so beautiful, despite acting a little off, when she waved goodbye and said she might be back in time for lunch.

It had been weeks of infatuation at this point. Trailing behind in her delicate shadow, hiding behind whatever veil of friendship they had in public. She rolled over and pushed her face into a pillow, rocking from side to side. It was like being younger again, when she stayed with a Russian tutor who she'd grown fond of. Always watching the world through windows like a dog. It was sitting in front of the dying fire, reaching to the sparks, and wondering if the flame could be reignited.

Maybe it was just torture. That was definitely an easier way to say it.

Katya pulled herself up, staring at the pillow she'd smothered herself with before standing beside the couchbed. Princess was asleep, like usual, and the apartment was eerily quiet. Her eyes scanned through the living room and landed on the guitar stand beside a stack of unfinished pieces.

" _I don't do musics_ ," Katya had said to Trixie once in the dark of night on the balcony. The blonde had laughed, strumming at the guitar with dainty fingers. The sentence was stupid. Trixie knew what she meant.

The guitar didn't look right in her calloused hands - the two didn't join like they did with Trixie. Instead, it felt like she was choking the neck of the guitar, her hands pressed tightly into the strings.

_"I don't sing, either. That's a promise, kukla."_

_"That's what I said, too."_

The noises felt thick, scratching in the air. How did Trixie make it sound so good? She furrowed a brow and leaned into the guitar. Her small frame curled over the instrument, as if she could collapse headfirst at any moment. A single, sweet chord burst from the strings, startling Katya as she pressed her back against the wall beside the guitar stand. Another chord. The first one again. She had two. Maybe Trixie could teach her more, maybe they could work on this together. Maybe, even if Katya did get a job and saved up enough money for an apartment and would have to move away from Trixie, she could feign an interest in guitar to spend more time with her blonde ray of light. Maybe she could see Trixie outside of the confines of the church and hear the sweet Southern tang harmonize with the voice of the guitar, maybe she'd keep going back to the soup kitchen in hopes of crossing paths again, bible in hand.

She was lying to herself, her fingers roaming the strings as she looked up at the ceiling. She was lying to Trixie. The line she walked was so thin that it might've been non-existent. Her mother would've yelled at her for being dishonest, no matter how cruel and unGodly her truth was. All of heaven resonated above, looking down on Katya like an actor without direction or lines, and she couldn't figure out if God had left her in this moment because He had given up or because He trusted her.

" _I bet you'd sing well. Accents always make things fun._ "

" _I hate mine_."

" _I don't. Yours, I mean_."

Maybe God had meant it. Skin on skin, and those damn cigarettes. The mop of blonde hair and freckles scattered like starlights across marbled skin. Shattered breath and bare nails. To wake up sweating in the middle of the night, shame pushing her frame deep into the earth. Staying up all night to oppose even the concept of such a dream, fighting any suggestion that crept into her mind as a result of those thoughts. The thought of sweet cinnamon and all of her Godly Woman's pastries, the apron she wore for no reason besides appearance. God knew everything she had viciously opposed and run from for so many years. He held it in front of her, dangling from a string just barely out of reach.

_"Aren't you supposed to hate me, Trixie?"_

Drunken, confused blinking and a nervous smile. " _I couldn't hate you. You_ ," with an acrylic fingernail pointed right at her chest, " _are, like...my perfect_ _Christian husband_."

_"No matter what?"_

" _Duh. Don't ask stupid questions_."

Maybe there were other ways to hint at what was happening. Her fingers tapped on the neck of the guitar and the leg supporting its base shook slightly. That pounding feeling in her heart, the need to smoke, and the wish for Trixie to both come home and never return.

_"What happens if my good Christian husband finds herself a good Christian husband?"_

_"Oh, solnyshka muya, that will never happen. Everybody falls in love with you first."_

_"But what if they don't? And what if somebody reaaally nice has eyes for you, huh? Who's gonna walk Princess then?"_

_"Ya vizhu tol'ko tebya."_

Coming to terms with the way things were hurt. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stinging feeling behind her eyelids. It was something she would never say out loud, something she couldn't even say in her head. But the feeling tugged her onward, despite the carpet burn and blistered feet. Onward into the hurricane, spiraling around her and winding her so tight that it would always be just this hard to breathe.

_"And if my kukla finds a Christian husband of her own?"_

A goofy, tipsy smile. _"Why would I look when I have what I need?"_

When Trixie opened the door to her apartment, Katya was slumped against the living room wall, guitar hanging from a loosely closed hand. A tote bag slipped from her fingers, spilling onto the floor - various groceries and a small housewarming gift her mother had insisted on buying for the new roommate, despite loud disagreement from her husband. She approached slowly, watching the rise and fall of the Russian's chest, relief flooding over her body. Every move was careful as Trixie sat down beside her, leaning into her broader shoulders and smiling to herself.

Katya wouldn't see the look on her Godly Woman's face as she watched her sleep. She wouldn't remember Trixie quietly telling her about how boring her visit home was, how she wishes she could've brought Katya with her but worried about making her anxious, and how she always suspected the guitar was of interest to her but never wanted to push anything too much. She wouldn't watch as Trixie drifted off to sleep on and by her side, comfortable with the one-sided intimacy.

Even if she had, her mind would have become a warzone. Every word and movement would have been misinterpreted, every thought that could've driven her farther away would've been somehow proven correct.

Maybe she wouldn't be okay with it, and maybe Trixie was only okay with it given that Katya would never know. Maybe the only reason they coexisted so perfectly entwined was their mutual resistance to even utter the word they knew was stuck in their throats. The feeling, the warmth, and the always forbidden.

  
But God, ever vigilant, must have known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tiny break in updates - university started and my ass is already being handed to me !!
> 
> It's a shorter chapter, but it's kinda the bridge between two distinct moments with these two. I hope you guys could see the purpose of this chapter - I really toyed with the idea of writing out a full wet dream chapter rather than just hinting at it here, but I worry about sexualizing a fic like this so early on. We're here to explore all kinds of love, sexuality, and relationships ! woo! 
> 
> As always, I really hope you enjoyed !! Feedback is always encouraged - and do expect a chapter very soon (possibly tomorrow night) as an apology for making you all wait so long. ❤️
> 
> kukla - doll  
> solynshka muya - my sunshine (term of endearment)  
> Ya vizhu tol'ko tebya - I see only you


	13. Denial

With the thought of Trixie buried in her mind, Katya sat alone in the back row of the church. She could see the blonde curls a few rows ahead, and her fingers tapped nervously against the wooden armrest as the congregation began to settle in.

_"The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't want to go around acting like you're a secret. I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was gonna do. Telling my family about you just felt right."_

She had watched Trixie's stepfather excuse himself when Trixie approached the group. She knew it had to hurt, no matter how much she claimed to hate him.

_"I think things will be safe...Uhm, my mom was. She was really, really happy. She said you've complimented her food before at receptions, so you've basically already stolen her heart. And...she knows that having a friend here makes me happy, too."_

The gift Trixie had brought home was a watch - a useless gift for somebody who'd lived under the sun and stars for so many years, but a kind gesture nonetheless. Good for a working woman, she had noted, which made Katya wonder about the backstory Trixie must have crafted for her. It ticked quietly on her wrist, and the more Katya fiddled with it, the more she realized that a watch is something most people own. A tiny time-telling device on their person at all times, considered a necessity to most rather than a luxury. A watch said to anybody who sat nearby that Katya was stable enough to afford a watch, which was a lie, but a fun lie to live either way.

_"I just said that...you were somebody down on luck who I cared about. No bullshit, no pity party, no nothing. Just what I felt was right and true."_

When the preacher spoke about love, as preachers often do, Katya could feel her stomach churn and curl around her ribcage. She ran her tongue over her front teeth and stared into her palms, alone in the back row.

"All I have is Yours, and all You have is mine. If God can lead, we must follow. We are bound not by the circumstances we exist within, but instead by the way we react to such situations. If life is treating you well, God has blessed you with the will to help others. If it seems the world has turned against you, it is because God has plans for you. Love is abundant and free, but not freely given.  We must ask why - why? - is love so guarded? God gifted us with love, and we must not let His gifts go to waste." 

When service ended, Katya stayed seated as per Trixie's request. _Let me handle them myself_ , she had said. A large figure appeared in her peripherals, and the Russian tore her gaze from her hands to meet the eyes of somebody who wasn't quite a stranger.

Trixie's stepfather stared down at her as she stood, only slightly adjusting his gaze as she moved. Her figure disappeared in his shadow. He was a giant, a wordless giant standing before her, who didn't need to say shit for the message to get across. He looked at her like the wretch she felt like, but she didn't know what aspects of her various sins he was versed in. Did he know she was homeless, rejected by her family? Did he know his daughter had saved her from the streets, the club life, and the addictions that followed one's footsteps so closely in that life? Did he know why she felt guilty?

He must have known everything. God has always been terrifying and all-knowing, and He stood before her in the form of an angry, Christian man, stepfather to the woman she wanted both everything and nothing from.

"Sir, I-"

"Don't." A deep, gruff choke. "Come to the reception."

Trixie didn't look happy when Katya appeared, but she knew it wasn't her fault. It was the looming presense ushering her inside that affected the blonde. This would be a constant battle, Katya knew, for as long as she stayed by Trixie's side. The heartbreak of seeing her upset, the want to whisk her back to the apartment and fill her with just the right amount of fruity cocktails, and the need for her to breathe steadily again.

"I'm sure Trixie told you that she visited home yesterday," the familiar older woman began, taking Katya's hand and pulling her away from the blonde and her stepfather.

"Yes. She did, uhm...this morning." Katya hadn't smoked in a full twenty-four hours to keep the scent of nicotine off her body, all for the chance of being in close proximity to Trixie's family, and her entire body buzzed with anxiety and the need for a smoke break.

"She told me a whole lot about you. You've worked really hard to look for jobs in the area, yes?"

"Yes ma'am. I want to repay your daughter for everything." The words flew out of her mouth without thought, straight from her Russian tongue to the mother's ears. Yet she still smiled and squeezed Katya's hand lightly.

"She's been a lot more...upbeat, I guess, since she decided to help get you on your feet again. My Trixie's always been a lot like me. I'm not saying it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to take you in, but...she often makes very big decisions without thinking much. You seem like the opposite."

"Aha...you're probably right. I think a bit too much. And Trixie..." The thought of being held close on that dark, stormy night, in the arms of a God. Beneath the stained glass saints and the divine heart, falling deeper into a new life that was bound to crumble. "I might be biased, but I can't think of a flaw with listening to your heart like she does."

The mother was quiet for a moment before letting go of Katya's hand. "I like that. I like it a lot. And I'm glad that God brought the two of you together." Her voice cracked a little, and Katya knew that the two of them were in the same boat. Floating in the middle of the ocean, looking to the empty sky for any fragmented piece of a greater being to bring them home.

" _Da_. I am, too."

Reception moved slowly and anxiety boiled through Katya's veins. She was all to aware of the single cigarette and a lighter in her pocket - and hell, at this point, she'd light a dead rat's tail on fire and try to take a drag from it. But the thought of leaving Trixie alone weighed on her feet like cement. The blonde was doing her best, even with the stepfather Katya had heard so many drunken rambles about watching her every move. Piano melodies, bright and beautiful, resonating in the air with the loud talk of old friends. All people Katya didn't know and might never know, who loved a God so good and true that they dedicated their life to Him. People who loved freely and openly. People who Katya would never understand.

Katya followed quickly as Trixie excused herself from the crowd and into the hallway that bridged the main room and the reception area.

"K-Katya?"

" _Kotyenok_. I won't pry, I swear, but I can literally feel your dad trying to rip my ribcage out with his eyes."

"Kot-yen-ok? That's new."

"I - okay, sure, I get creative sometimes - no, fuck, I just, I'm really really nervous and I haven't smoked in a full day so I think it's one of those sixty-forty things, sixty being no lung cancer and forty being everything else."

"If you need to smoke, there's nothing stopping you."

"But what if your nice little southern mom can smell my burning lungs from here?! What will she think of me then?!" Katya hissed, her eyes widening as the words left her mouth. Trixie's parents already knew she had been homeless. Becoming roommates was the only new development in their relationship. Why did impressions matter so much to her now?

"Katya." Trixie turned and took both of the Russian's hands into her own. "I want you to do anything that keeps you from imploding, okay? And I can see you spiraling."

"I...I don't want to leave you alone with him."

To cry, to laugh, to scream, to be honest. God, it was difficult. So difficult.

"Y'know how there's a lot of things I don't know about you?" She dropped her hands and pulled away. "There's lots of things you don't know about me and...him. That even I haven't figured out. But I need to, y'know? So maybe this all is good."

" _Khorosho_."

"I'm gonna finally go to the bathroom then, okay?" She giggled - again, so different from the regular laugh, reserved and almost distant - and held an open palm to Katya. "Here's the car key. If you need time alone, just wait out there for me. I need to talk a little bit longer with everybody."

And like that, Katya was alone.

She turned the corner of the hall and then went around another, leaning her back against the wall facing the service room. It was hard, the thought of walking into the open room alone again. It was there she had prayed to God or anybody willing to listen. Prayed for a change of heart, a sign, or forgiveness. And she was given all of it with the beautiful brown-eyed Barbie doll, the enigmatic figure that took Katya into her arms. The Godly Woman, so distant yet ever present.

That word was a terrible word. It was one of the last words she had said to her parents, all those years ago. It was a word she had toyed with, trying to understand. A word that flew through her mind when women passed, when she used to get chatted up at bars by curious sorority girls, and when she was alone in the darkness of Trixie's living room. It was something she should feel towards God and all His creations, despite being hated so violently for feeling so strongly towards specific people. And the word was such a frequent visitor lately, whenever she'd watch Trixie do her makeup in the morning, when tipsy Trixie would play with her hair and smile so sweetly, when the two would talk deep into the night about nothing at all. It didn't feel like the rumors she'd heard. Her heart wasn't in pain. It was her stomach, flooded with guilt and worry and all the feelings she'd tried to avoid for so many years. Being rejected by God, by her family, by those who carried her, by those who she would never see again. But the thought of returning to the river bank with a heart that Trixie had torn to pieces with her soft palms and long, pink nails - it was too much to bear.

Katya exhaled and leaned forward, stumbling into the service room. She looked up to the wall of saints and felt her chest lighten. Maybe the cigarette could wait.

"So you're a part of a congregation now?"

She jumped and looked over her shoulder. A tall, thin woman stood at the door, just where she had stood, sopping wet, all those weeks ago.

" _Shtoh_ -"

God had really fucked up plans.

"It's kinda a weird one-eighty, y'know? But I guess it could be good for you. Better than what we all thought."

If she had the energy to shake and cry, she would. If she was fearless enough to scream, she would. If she was feeling angry enough to lunge at the intrusion into this fantasy world, she absolutely would.

"Is your little blondie here, too? I won't take much of your time, promise."

Katya could only stand and watch the new and old worlds collide. Neither without their own evils, and neither with a true villain. Neither without their own individual pains.

"Violet. Can we talk outside?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again !!  
> I promise Violet's not a villain, she's actually here to help Katya sort her shit out. I hope to have another update out by this coming Wednesday if my schedule allows it - so keep an eye out !!! 
> 
> Feedback is forever encouraged ! I have a vague idea of where this story is going, but if you guys want anything specific, do tell ! I've loved your comments so far, they make my day ❤️ Thank you for reading !! 
> 
> da - yes  
> kotyenok - kitten (endearment)  
> khorosho - okay, alright, general agreement


	14. Admission

"How's your health?"

The choice of words was extraordinary. It wasn't _are you drunk_ or _how many days_ _since the last relapse_ , it was a softer inquiry. Deep into Katya's head and heart.

"Better."

"Yeah...thought so. I'm sorry I freaked you out when I showed up at the soup kitchen. I mean, I'm used to people doing that over how good I look, but..." She laughed, rolling her eyes as her expression became a little more serious. "I kinda realized what happened and felt like an ass."

"It's okay. Trixie's used to it."

"Trixie?"

She inhaled and nodded, shutting her eyes. "Yeah. Trixie."

Watching the two sides of her life collide was like standing beside a crack of thunder and lightning. The distant rumbling under her feet. The fear.

"You're fucking a church girl?" Violet pursed her lips into a thin smile, pressing a long nail into her bottom lip. "Or am I, uh...getting ahead of myself?"

"Getting ahead." Being curt felt rude, but it also felt right.

"Well...I, y'know. You were around long enough. You know what happens when people stop showing up at our joint. Customers ask where you went, rumors start flying, and then we end up having a bodyless grave. We thought you went off the deep end again." Her eyes dragged over the scene behind Katya - the giant piano, the stained glass, the marbled walls. "And I, uh, get this feeling that maybe you did, and that's why you're here."

"I." Fuck. Fuck. She'd rather die than answer that question.

"It's okay, really. I had to figure myself out, too, and I had a lot less years under my belt for bad shit to happen to me before being a big...y'know. Talking in here feels weird. I feel like God or whoever has a giant hand down my throat."

"It's...not too bad."

"You're not trying to run from it, right?"

She looked at her feet. Fuck, that cigarette would be amazing right now.

"Katya, you just can't do that. I don't even think pretty-church-girl-you-wanna-fuck would want that. You know that, right?"

"Mmm..." A soft humming noise was all she could muster.

"You need to be honest. Isn't that what Christian hicks do?" Violet always laughed at her own jokes. "Or at least tell themselves it's what they do?"

"Can I be really honest?"

"Yes, but I'll probably be honest back."

"I came here because I thought God - or whoever the fuck, y'know - would kinda just. Sort me out. Either way it went. Like, He'd look down on me trying to figiure out how to pray, and be like 'oh, she likes men now!' or 'oh, she's done a lot of really stupid, sinful stuff, maybe it's time to get rid of her' and everything could be done and over with. But now, everything's just kind of worse, and everything hurts but I..." Her fingers drummed nervously against her thighs. "I just....don't think I can go back. Anywhere."

"You're fucking stupid."

"Look, you whore, you don't have to tell me twice-"

"No, you missed the point. If this God of yours really is real, then he put you in this situation, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he had you meet this girl that makes you get all domestic, right?"

"I...Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

"So...?"

"But I don't know what's happening, Violet!" She reached out and grabbed the thin woman's forearms. "Why do I always feel like I'm gonna be sick? This is a hundred times better than hooking and dancing, but, but everything feels so fucking terrible when it should feel great."

"Ew, I didn't come here to be your therapist."

"You rotted cunt-"

"Y'know what? Fine. Fine! I'll help but you have to say it out loud." Violet shook her arms free of Katya's grasp, a stern look on her face. "You have to say it. And don't be a stupid bitch and ask me what you're supposed to say."

"I...N-not in here, she might-"

"I don't give a fuck about what your little straight girlfriend might think, all I know is that I've watched you deny so much shit for so long that you couldn't even admit that you enjoyed sleeping with me, and I know that I can handle it but I don't think you can at this point. Not anymore."

"But it's...it's not..."

Violet walked ahead of the Russian, down the carpet that lined the aisle and stopping right in front of the choir stand. "I don't believe in God, Katya. Me looking this good is my fault and my fault alone, not some divine spirit's creation. I don't like how God's been manipulated and reshaped by nosy people these days to answer questions they never had to ask in the first place.

"But...I'll believe in your God. God who loves like God should. God who confirms every detail of you and says 'yes, this is right'. So if that's not your God....then fuck your God, and I'll come live by the river with you."

"You wouldn't step foot in untreated waters," Katya muttered, and Violet spun around with a raised brow.

"Yeah, which is why you should get what I mean. So just say it. Okay? You've said lots of things with God listening."

"I..."

"Say it or I'll moan that blondie's name real fuckin' loud."

"I like women, you gutted whore!" It all was a hurried whisper, her lips curling into a snarl. "I like women. I like women! Women are everything! Is that what you wanted?"

"You'll get wrinkles if you keep doing that."

"I don't give a fuck - look, look, I just need-"

"And you don't just like women."

"This isn't what I need right now-"

"No, no, don't you talk over me." Violet held out a finger in Katya's direction, raising her chin to look down on the Russian. "You look at women when their backs are turned. You've only ever been emotional with women. And I don't think you've willingly been around a dick in your life. I know you've liked fucking women, but I get the feeling this is different."

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Well. You get all jittery when she's around." A finger went up. "You, like, breathe her name. You don't say it. You breathe it like you've just come up from underwater for air." Another finger. "Whenever I mention her, you tense up like I'm going to steal her from you."

"I've always been emotionally connected to the women I'm around," she said, stepping forward to stand only a foot away from the thin woman.

"Katya, you got me off once and didn't even bother to let go of the lit cigarette in your free hand," Violet hissed between her teeth.

The two stared at each other for a moment, silent as Katya smiled toothily.

"Should I apologize?"

"No, if I smoked I probably would have done the same. Fuck, it feels weird talking about this in a church."

"It feels weird talking to you in general. I never realized how...how well I work with the people here, compared to back then."

"Would you put it out for Trixie?"

Katya stared at the thin woman, her eyes widening and her mouth going dry. Trixie. Her head clouded as she thought about the blonde, leaning against the banister of her - their? - back deck, face turned forward. Every curve of that woman outlined with gold. Every inclination of holiness present and counted for, trailing down her shoulders to her thighs.

"I think you would."

"I haven't smoked in over a day because she told me her parents were gonna be at church and might want to talk to me." Soft golden hair. That time she had straightened it and worn the long, orange gown, and sung about heartbreak in the dead of night while Katya hid behind the choir stands. Fuck, she wanted to see it again. So badly.

Violet raised a thin, arched brow. "I could probably count the amount of times I've seen you without a cigarette in your mouth on one hand...and that includes right now."

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up whenever she says something sweet to me, I feel nervous but not like I do when it feels like I'm dying, it's more like I'm nervous because I'm not dying, my chest gets really tight whenever she tries to repeat back a Russian word and I've never been able to look her in the eye when she only wears a t-shirt to bed, God, fucking Christ, I'm - oh, this is so bad, Violet, this is so fucking bad."

"I think you're at least saying it in your head now. The right thing, I mean. Could you say it out loud, or is that asking too much?"

"I can't. I can't! I can't, this is, I don't - I don't wanna be like this, Violet, it's not right, I'm not supposed to fucking feel like this!" She stepped even closer to Violet, her voice a shrill whisper.

"Then tell God. Tell God and let Him handle you."

"Why?"

"Because you can't handle you. That's why you needed to come here. To depend on God when you couldn't do shit yourself. So say it."

She inhaled and closed her eyes, only opening her mouth a small crack. "I...I, I think....I lo-"

"Katya?"

The Russian whipped around to face the far end of the room, meeting the gaze of a figure shyly standing in the hallway entrance.

"I needed to tell you something and thought you had gone out to the car, sorry - is that...uh...y'know?" The blonde woman gestured to her waist and made a tugging motion with her hands.

"Wh - what the fuck did you tell her about me?" Violet deadpanned, crossing her arms as she walked over to Trixie. Katya stood completely still, watching the two interact. "I'm Violet, an old friend of Katya's. I came to apologize for...what happened at the soup kitchen."

"Did you follow us?"

"No, I just know that this congregation usually volunteers there. Thank you for taking care of her. I was never good at calming her down."

"You don't...have to thank me." She still sounded weary, her gaze flashing between the woman in front of her and Katya a few yards away. "Is it, uhm...is that happening again?"

"Oh - no, no. Katya's just...smoke deprived." Violet tried to smile, only for her expression to fall as Trixie ignored her completely, instead choosing to come closer to Katya.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a hushed voice, her expression and movements gentle. "You can always head out to the car and I'll handle her. You still have a cig, right?"

" _Kukla_." It was a quiet murmur, and Katya knew everything was right. The towns she had left behind, the busses she had rode for days on end, the people who's faces she couldn't quite picture anymore, and the feeling of loss - none of that would compare to this. She would see those brown eyes at Heaven's gates, watching with hands clung to the bars as Katya was denied for the very last time. "You can tell her your name."

"My name's Trixie and I'm scared that you'll hurt her," she said loudly, her eyes not leaving Katya's face. Violet huffed behind them, and she could imagine the woman rolling her eyes completely back into her head.

"Trix, it's fine." There a fondness to her voice, or maybe it was a clear resignation. She wanted to take her hands, hold them close. The fear hadn't fully set in yet but it buzzed in her stomach. It was beyond her and any God. It was just Trixie.

"Really?"

"She won't hurt me."

"I never got any Russian nicknaaames..." Violet walked beside the two, glancing between them and sighing. "Fine. You two figure things out. And I don't-" She pressed a finger into Trixie's arm. "-want to see Katya out on the streets looking like a skeleton again."  
  
Trixie looked at Violet calmly, tilting her head before grinning up at her. "Okay!"

In the car during the ride home, Trixie was worried. She forced Katya to sit up front, breaked slowly, and turned down the music so low it might as well have been off.

"What was it that you had to tell me? When you walked into the main room?"

"Oh - oh, right! You got the job! The one downtown with the antiques." She smiled widely for a moment, and Katya couldn't help but smile back. She wished she could get a hundred jobs. That stupid pride.

But it washed away quickly when Trixie's expression fell, and she grew quiet.

"Is...something wrong?"

"Can you tell me who she was, Katya?"

She inhaled sharply. "She was..." The Russian rolled her head, sighing. "She....well. We used to be close."

"Us close?"

"What is 'us close'?"

"Y'know. Watching documentaries, talking about work, walking the dog, talking about other things that don't matter, shared bad family histories and cigarettes. Us close."

"Ah...jealous?"

"Of! Course!" Trixie pouted and slid a hand off the wheel, driving one-handed. She spoke with her hands often - not that it was a problem. "I mean, I...I dunno, I guess I've just never gotten this close with anybody before - see, I even say stupid shit like that with you. That's what us close is!"

"Well, no need to worry then." She reached her hand out and laced her pinky around Trixie's. The blonde beamed at Katya, and the world softened. Everything was hazy, grainy, without any sharpness, and she glowed. Maybe God manufactured this moment, where the world came to terms with Katya as she met the world halfway. Maybe God had figured it all out a long time ago.

Katya liked women.

"Only we could be us close."

Katya loved this one in particular. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a day late, I'm really sorry !!! But she's a big one - for Katya anyway.  
> I hope to have another chapter up very soon ❤️
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated !! I've really loved reading your comments ❤️ Thank you for reading ! It's been really nice to kind of just...project into this story and have it be received so well. Your kindness means more than you'll ever know. 
> 
> kukla - doll


	15. Favorite

Trixie wanted to know what every Russian word meant.

She sat on her bed with a small journal in her lap, pen in hand. _Khorosho: okay or good. Kukla: doll. Da: yes. Nyet: no. Privyet: hello._

With a sigh, she closed the book and laid back on her bed. Nothing would be enough to get through to Katya. What would she even want to say, with her thick accent butchering every word?

The thought of secret conversations in public, talking as they always do. Joking and teasing in a crowd. Making fun of her smoker cough, and being poked at for her Dolly Parton-wannabe hair. How would one translate _"single mom who won't remarry"_?

" _Kukla_. I'm gonna go smoke on the deck, okay?"

Trixie perked up. "Y'know I don't care if you smoke in here, right?"

There was a small knock on the door before it creaked open slowly. Katya hesitantly stepped in, wearing a short shift dress that Trixie had insisted on buying as a congratulatory gift after getting a call back from the antique shop.

"Ah! Bitch!" The blonde jumped upright, her hair flying in front of her face. "It looks so good, I'd even let you smoke in my room!"

Katya snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means my Christian husband looks reeeeally really good!" She held out her hands, wiggling her fingers before Katya took hold of them. "I mean it!"

"I'm still not going to smoke in your room...it kinda feels weird being in here." Her gaze flicked from side to side, and she cursed under her breath.

"There's no reason to be embarrassed. I can tell you when you look good, right? You tell meeee." The words trailed off her lips, curling into a whine as she spoke.

"I know, but...It's nothing." She closed her eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

"Ah, uhm, shit....oh, _spasibo_! Right? And I would say.... _Pozhaluysta_?" Trixe bounced a tiny bit, fully aware that she was acting childish. But it felt right, the excitement buzzing through her veins as Katya opened her eyes and stared down at her.

"...Y. Uh. Yeah?" Color creeped up Katya's neck. "Are, are you..."

"I don't know a lot yet," Trixie sighed, tilting her head, "so don't get worried, I haven't been able to translate all the things you say in your sleep."

"UHM."

"It's louuud!" She shrieked with laughter and fell back onto the bed, letting go of Katya's hands. "And sometimes it's in English, but those are always just random...I feel like the Russian ones are _jucier_."

"U. Uh."

Trixie patted the space in the bed next to her. Maybe having a king-sized bed had more benefits than just being long enough for her legs. "Teach me!"

The Russian inched forward, glancing between Trixie and her bed. "I dunno-"

And then she tumbled onto the bed, tugged by Trixie's hands on top of the giggling mass of blonde hair. Katya was so small and frail, only slightly less boney when they met. She rolled the Russian onto the empty space in her bed, hovering over her with her acrylics planted into the spaces between Katya's messy hair and her shoulders.

"Teach me Russian love songs."

Her body surged with warmth as she beamed down at Katya, who stared back with bulging eyes.

" _O bozhe_...H-have you had anything to drink?"

"No, I'm just excited. Isn't life good?"

"Is it...?"

"Yeah. It is." Trixie fell to the side, her hands brushing against Katya's arm. "And I'll tell you every time you smoke about how fuckin' awesome things are right now until you believe me."

"That'd be...shit, a hundred times a day, _kukla_. God, I owe you so much money for cigs."

"You don't owe me anything." She turned her head to look at Katya, who shifted onto her side. "I mean, not if you teach me some Russian, at least."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Everything."

" _Vse_."

Trixie raised a brow.

"That means everything, Barbie."

"Oh. Oh! I knew that." She grinned toothily, turning onto her side and pressing her cheek into an open palm. "So, uhm....how do you say dog?"

" _Sobaka_. And her name would be _Printsessa_."

"Mmm. I should write these down...but I'm comfortable."

"Me too." Katya pulled a hand from under her torso and leaned her head into her hand to mimic Trixie. "I feel like I'm telling you trade secrets. Digging my own grave here, huh?"

"Think of it...uh, you're my professor. Yeah, and I'm...mmm...I'm just a reaaally stupid kid in your office. Right? I bet you'd be a great Russian teacher. What would I call you?"

"In Russian?"

"Duh!"

"Uh..." Katya trailed off, her eyes closing as her face warmed. "It...sounds exactly like English, but with a thicker accent? So like... _mees Zamolodchikova_."

" _Mees Zamo_!" Moments like this were well documented in Trixie's head. The softer side of Katya, with red cheeks when words didn't come easy. It wasn't fear buzzing in her lungs, it was a blurred warmth, and she was addicted. Every time her eyes met the sunken green ones. She hadn't felt a warmth like this in such a long time. Nobody could take it away from her. "How about...God?"

" _Dozhe_. What do I get in return for teaching you Russian?"

"Cigarettes!"

"Too honest."

"Then...unconditional support and love that might be conditional depending on what I'm supporting?"

Katya's face fell for a moment, then she smiled softly. "Yeah. I'll take it."

"Where are you from?"

"That's not...you don't want me to translate that, right?"

"Noo, I want you to answer it. Y'know, this kinda feels like sleepovers I had as a kid. I bet we would've been friends."

"Ah, I dunno...I'm from a busy town. It felt small until I came here. It's far away, with lots of people and bus stops and people you know by name who stand by the curb. I was one of them for a while."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I decided to leave town after I saw my own parents drive by me on the side of the road like I was nothing. That was the last time I saw them." She pressed her head into the sheets. "What about you, Trix? I've lived here for months and know so little."

"Mmm...well." She pouted a little. "I was raaaised in a big town by just my mom. I've never met my dad - _obviously_ \- but I'm fine with it. Like, maybe he's dead, but I'm not."

"Woah."

"Yeah. Yeah." Her gaze shifted a little before she stared into Katya's eyes. "I, uh, moved here with my mom when she got engaged. And I haven't been able to break free since. I should've just stayed with my siblings, but...One's in the army, so it's not like I would've had company. And I couldn't leave my mom alone with her...husband." The words felt like venom, dripping off of her lips and into the sheets.

"I jumped on a train to anywhere with the last of my money and ended up here."

"Wish I could do that."

"You'd have to drag me along if you did."

"I would even if you didn't want me to!" Trixie smiled, and the warmth stretched down the her stomach. "Who would I be without my God-questioning chainsmoking best friend?"

Katya hummed in response, rolling over onto her back.

"Heeeyy!!"

"What does best friend mean?"

"To me? I dunno. When it just feels right."

"Does this feel right to you?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Trixie leaned forward, pulling her knees close to her body and turning to grab the journal off her bed. "It means I'd hop on a bus with you and no money and let it take us anywhere. You've lived with me for a few months, Katya. And I learn something everyday, like you're an endless void of interesting life experiences I'll never have."

Katya was silent before she leaned forward, resting her chin on Trixie's shoulder. Her heart jumped, and the warmth in her chest travelled up her neck and cheeks.

"I never believed in those words. _Best friend._ It feels like ranking your friends. Plus, people always end up hurting you in the end."

"I don't think I'll hurt you," Trixie murmured. The Russian was pressed against her back, looking down onto the book in her hands. If her ears were visible, they were probably on fire.

"I don't think you would, either," she responded plainly. "But that's not what I'm worried about."

Trixie opened her mouth to speak, only to sit in the quiet air a few moments. Katya's soft breathing, echoing in her ear. God watching, so closely, so lovingly, and she wanted to take Katya into her arms and cry.

"You're my favorite person." The Russian said it so simply, her hands wrapping around Trixie's torso to hold her close. "Will that work, instead?"

"If it works for you...I like that."

"Mm." Katya sighed and lifted a hand, tapping on the journal's pages. "It's funny seeing you spell things out in the English alphabet."

Trixie realized she'd been holding her breath.

"But then again, I haven't read cyrillic in years."

The faint smell of tobacco and earth. The gruffness to her voice. The intimacy of it all.

"If you want, I could-"

"Can I run to the bathroom for a second?" It tumbled out of her mouth, blurred and rushed and ugly. Cracked like chipping paint.

Her arms tensed around Trixie's waist for a moment before she pulled away, shifting farther away from the blonde.

"I, I'm sorry-"

"No, I just, it's just- yeah."

She didn't look back to see Katya, head in hands, as she closed the door to her bedroom. Every breath was strained. Trixie hurried into the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as she could and lifting her head to the mirror.

Her bare, freckled cheeks looked as if they were painted red with a single stroke of a brush from ear to ear, crossing her nose and undereyes. The loose bun on her head was falling and strands of blonde hair dangled in front of her eyes and over her shoulders. Wrinkles in her sleeping shirt just under her ripcage, where Katya's rough hands had held her like she was made of glass. She ran her fingers over her soft stomach, up to her erratic heart, and felt lonely.

Trixie wanted a do-over. She wanted Katya's arms around her again. The world had never been this cold before. She wanted to drown in the scent of smoke, the calloused fingers, the messy hair, the accent that wrapped around her body so tightly and felt so _right_.

_You're my favorite person_.

 

 

She brought her hands to her cheeks, and her heart calmed at the thought of those words. A sensation, so new that it was frightening. The mirror felt foreign, but she believed the look of excitement on her face. Katya and all her quirks, with the taste of such closeness still left in her mouth. Trixie couldn't help but smile.

And she hoped God didn't see the way that made her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update not at 1 am? Who's this new woman with a functional sleep schedule?
> 
> All jokes aside, I wanted to give you all one more sweet chapter from Trixie's point of view. 
> 
> This story has been so much fun for me. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it, I'd keep writing even if nobody kept up with this story. Grappling with one's sexuality is tough, and I'm glad that some of you have been able to relate to my/Katya's experience. 
> 
> Feedback is always encouraged ! ❤️ I'll try to have another chapter up tomorrow in anticipation of a busy work week. I hope you all are having a great weekend!!
> 
> Pozhaluysta: thank you  
> o dozhe: oh God  
> Everything else should be translated within the chapter. ❤️


	16. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance. Trigger warning for panic attacks and internalized homophobia. This is not a chapter to skim.

What did she expect?

Katya ran her fingers through her hair, shakily reaching down to pull a cig from her pocket. The room felt cold. Covered in pink and gingham print, with white accents across the walls and Princess asleep on the floor. A void in her arms.

This was dangerous. She was toeing a line. A new line, of love and intimacy that she'd never played with before.

Trixie was soft. Trixie was gentle, and so warm. A ball of sunlight in her arms, an hourglass with a heart. She brought a hand to her forehead, trying to avoid the fear and the urge to cry.

She didn't expect loving Trixie to be this hard.

The warmth. The love. The feeling of God, seeping into her skin, and all of her senses reeling. Holding her. She had held Trixie. Trixie, embedded into her mind with a buzzing feeling. Like the world would never let her go, not until she said something to the estranged God who talked to her so sweetly.

Trixie had run away.

Katya stood, her legs weak. She knew what she had to do.

When she stepped out of the bedroom, Trixie was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her hand still on the knob. She smiled so brightly, her hair bouncing when she tilted her head. And she held her hands up as Katya apologized, with a delicate fondness to her voice that sent daggers into the Russian's heart.

_Don't pity me_.

She hated it. They stood together on the back deck, the sun barely rising as Katya took her first puff from the bent cig.

"Are you excited?"

"For what?" Katya's accent was thick with disdain, and her stomach dropped when Trixie's smile faded.

"For...your job? That starts soon?"

"Ah." She blew a small cloud of smoke from between her teeth. The fresh-born sunlight made Trixie look heavenly. This was God's doing, it had to be.

Fuck God.

"Hey, I...I didn't mean to overreact." Apparently, she had already made tea, and she held the small cup with both of her hands. What an adorable housewife. "I just, uhm...g-got a little embarrassed, I guess. I don't know why." The sheepish smile, God dammit. "I wasn't upset! I promise! I just, I dunno. I guess I misinterpreted...? It's stupid, sorry."

"It's not stupid and you don't have to talk about it." She regretted the words immediately. But she brought the cigarette to her lips again, looking onto the skyline only to avoid seeing Trixie's face.

Why was she acting like this?

She loved the girl beside her. Loved. And she knew it. It wasn't a love she had denied and thrown away only to realize its impact years down the line - she stood in the woman's shadow, unable to look her in the eye. She felt like she could puke at any moment.

"I...Ah. I really...d-didn't mean to hurt you."

Silence. The sour taste of rejection.

"Okay. Well. I'm...gonna get ready for work then! I'll, uhm...call when I'm about to leave."

_Don't leave me alone_.

Her free hand shook on the banister as she turned to watch Trixie disappear into the apartment. Why would she leave her, smoke clouding her vision and throat. Why. God only knew.

She would say something or she would run.

It was the last option for her. She couldn't hear the words. The shitty _Oh, I'm sorry_ s or the _I don't see you that way_ s. Even worse, the _ew, gross_ or the _I didn't know you were like that_. Disgusting. She felt disgusting.

The butt of the cig crumbled in her hand, and she looks out onto a blue sky. How much time had passed?

_Say something_.

"Trixie-"

"I'm gonna head out, okay?"

A blonde mass of curls appeared at the side of the deck door. Trixie was standing there, key and purse in hand, long lashes hiding blue eyes.

"...Why'd you wear your contacts?" A labored wheeze. Like she was dying.

"Ah...Y'know. I wanted to." She looked up nervously, almost embarrassed. A small grin.

"I miss 'em brown."

Trixie looked at the ground and shifted her weight. "Short shift today. Be back soon."

And then she walked away.

Katya sat down on the deck, her back to the banister. Maybe God would break the fence and send her plummeting down to the Earth below. Maybe Trixie would find her body when she returned home and feel relieved.

_You create situations in your head, Katya. None of that would ever happen_.

She sat there for hours, smoking her way through cigarette after cigarette. Thinking about the past months, the warmth of Trixie, the softness of her stomach and the syrupy southern tang. Holding her close like that, walking out on a tightrope and diving to an empty, concrete floor.

_You're my best friend_.

"Fuck off." The cigarette butt against her bare thigh felt good.

_You better only talk to me like that_.

"Fuck. Off."

_Why would I look when I have what I need?_

"FUCK OFF!" Katya stormed into the apartment, her eyes bloodshot as she slammed the deck door closed. The world was violently still, pulsing under her feet with each erratic movement. "Get out of my FUCKING head, you bitch!"

Pink. Everything was pink, and the bed dripped with pink blood onto the pastel floors, shattered windows and the voice of her mother. The feeling of being alone. Of never loving again.

"You were right," she whispered, hands digging into her scalp. The backpack in the corner of the room, still covered in dust. She ripped into the cupboards, pulling out utensils and anything canned to throw into her bag. "You were always right, you were right, and I was so fucking stupid to not listen to you."

The sound of the air conditioning on high in the car she owned as a teenager. A flash of her father's face. Violet's nails, dragging down Katya's thigh, and a small framed picture of Trixie on the coffee table. She stumbled forward, huffing as she snatched it off the glass and stared wide-eyed at the photo.

The blonde was smiling, not with her eyes. Her hair was falling out of a loose ponytail and she wore a loose pink dress. Probably posing for a senior photo or something similar. How old was Trixie, anyhow? Her arm hung around her guitar and she was sitting in a field of grass. She didn't look excited about the picture being taken. At least, not as excited as Katya had seen her before.

"Fuck! Ugh!" She dropped the picture, glass smashing into the floor, and her head rocked with pain. Losing Trixie.

_I'm gay_.

Just on the tip of her tongue.

_I love women. Hate me, please. Make this easy on my heart_.

She hiked the bag over her shoulder, her fingers drumming on the armstraps. How long had it been? How fast did the time pass? How many cigarettes had she smoked? The world swayed and Katya held her palms to her temple. God hated her. God knew what He had done. And God knew what had to happen.

Disgusting. Sinful. Hell.

_You'll die like this, y'know._

"AUGH!" She fell to her knees, covering her ears and leaning into her chest. "Stop it stop it STOP IT-"

"Katya...?"

The voice was frail.

"Katya, what's going on-"

"I-I need it to stop, it has to stop, and it won't fucking stop, get them AWAY FROM ME-"

"Katya, please..." Blonde curls appeared in Katya's peripherals. Home. Home from work already. She shrank at the sight, trying to pull herself away.

"You don't get it, you'll never fucking get it, you'll never understand it, and you can't and I won't let you!"

A hand ran over her back and she flinched. "You're...scaring me."

"Now I am? _Now_ I'm scaring you? There's a lot of fucking reasons I should scare you, Barbie. You let a bastard into your home. A whore. A fucking wretch. I can't keep hurting you like this, and something is happening that I can't control and I, I just can't stay."

"Hurting me? Katya...I. I don't want you to go." She sounded heartbroken, and if Katya were an outsider looking in, she would've smacked the fuck out of herself.

_Put the fucking backpack down, you idiot._

"What's going on with you?"

_She cares about you_.

"With me? With me? It's always been like this, always, always." Her gaze flicked around the apartment like a crazed dog, her hands shaking as she dragged her fingers through her hair. "Fuck, fuck, this is...This is really, really bad, Trix, I ran from it, and then bounced back and was fine, and I thought God would help, but He's just punishing me, and fuck, FUCK it hurts so fucking badly..."

She kept rattling on, the words flowing out of her mouth from English to mangled Russian as Trixie coaxed her to standing position. The blonde stood beside her, eyes wide and hands held out a foot away from her chest. "Katya, everything's gonna be fine. You got the job, this is a really good thing, I swear! Nobody there will hurt you!"

"No, I, _kukla_ , you really don't get it, you just don't fucking get it do you? Getting kicked out and living in a fucking tent or a hammock if I'm lucky enough to find two trees, all because I was fucked over from the start. Fucked. I was FUCKED, kukla, and it's so, so fucking hard to be okay with the idea that everybody's above me because I wasn't made right. The only reason I think God is real is because something had to have purposefully fucked up this badly, it's ridiculous, it's fucking ridiculous, and then for Violet to come back - I ran from her too, Trix, I ran to the opposite end of the world and hid in a church and listened to a beautiful girl sing about getting her heart broken, and I couldn't leave. I couldn't leave, no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I needed to, and I'm just walking the same path again, because I'm lying to you and I can't stop lying to you. You'll kick me to the dirt like all the others, just like my parents and my old congregation and everybody else in the world, so I should just get a fucking move on."

_You're doing this on purpose_.

"H-hey, Katya...breathe, I'm not gonna kick you out. I'm...I'm proud of you and all that you've done." Her delicate fingers wrapped around Katya's wrists, her shaking hands hanging limply in the air.

"You're proud? You're proud of me? _Kak? Zachem_? What have I done? I'm the exact same, the exact same, except God is punishing me. God is fucking me over just like he did from the start, and I have to run away because I can't get hurt and I don't want to hurt you and fuck I need a smoke so, so badly...I-I can't...I can't do this, Trix. You've done too much for me. So much that you have no idea all the trouble you've caused."

"What trouble have I caused for you?" Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked hurt, so genuinely hurt that Katya was sure she'd never felt such guilt.

_You're going to break her heart_.

"What trouble haven't I caused you? What am I, Trixie? A dog? I hate the way you pity me. I hate the way the world stops when you're gone, I hate..." She grew still, and her head hung between the two. "I'm a monster. And I have to go."

"No, you aren't." Maybe it was disbelief or shock that kept Trixie so calm. It pissed Katya off. "You...can't prove it."

_Cruel monster_.

Then, she did it. Katya _finally_ did it.

All the countless weeks of lazily staring at Trixie as she rambled about work, all the whispers and smiles at 12 in the morning when the blonde couldn't sleep and wanted company, the pink lipstick smudged on her cigarettes that Trixie would wipe off her lips. Between stolen breaths and sighs, every moment of each car drive, and the intimacy of sitting across the couch from each other while watching shitty documentaries. Everything stopped, sucked into the exact second, and combusting as Katya kissed her Godly Woman.

Trixie was frozen as Katya pulled only an inch away, her nose grazing the freckled cheek and her fingers stinging as they left the warm skin. She inhaled quickly and took a few steps back.

"There. A fucking monster, right? I have to go. I have to, I'm sorry, Trix."

When Trixie snapped back to reality, her apartment door was wide open. Katya's backpack, once covered in dust and dog hair in the corner of her living room, was gone, and a few cigarettes were scattered across the floor. Glass on the carpet, the sliding deck door slightly ajar, her kitchen cabinets all hanging open. Princess stood in the doorway, barking like a madman. The blonde sat down slowly, holding a hand over her mouth as the tears began to roll down her face.

Katya was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, I'M SORRY. Oh, please don't kill me. Good things will happen, just give them time. 
> 
> I was nervous putting this chapter out, it's really a piece of my heart. I hope, no matter how painful, you enjoyed.  
> Thank you for all your feedback thus far - it's really lit a fire under my ass to post more! ❤️ I hope you have wonderful weeks, and I'll hopefully have another chapter up by Friday (maybe earlier if you all bully me into it, haha).
> 
> kak, zachem: why? what for?


	17. Tighten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of verbal abuse and internalized homophobia. This chapter's for my LGBT kids - a throwback to figuring it all out. Love to all ❤️

Trixie remembered kissing her friends in grade school, like most little kids did. She wanted to be an adult.

She remembered watching idly by as those same friends paired off with random strangers, ones she would be introduced to before the couple's disappearance until an inevitable breakup. Her jaw resting in her hands, elbows pressed against the desk of her highschool English class. Trixie didn't know what love was.

Well, maybe she did.

The preachings of God and the divine. To love all, unconditionally, without any eye for another. She didn't need much, backpack slung over one shoulder from the first day of freshman year to the last of senior year. Boys would sometimes follow, but she never looked over her shoulder. That same English class, head on the desk, staring out the window at a cute younger teacher who brought her students outside. It was a small town, where she knew everybody's name and everybody knew hers.

Trixie watched pencil skirts and heels. Eighteen, sitting alone in her chorus room, she watched her teacher walk away, all the way down the long hall until she rounded the corner. With no sound but the clicking sound of her shoes on the hard, tile floors, the world felt very small. Even the roaring sounds of graduation house parties and the buzz of alcohol floating through her system couldn't make the world any bigger. She stood, back pressed against the fridge with a bottle of vodka in her hand, and watched her friends dance in the dim light of the backyard.

" _No need to be alone_ ," someone would say. And she'd look out, take a swig, wipe the lipstick from the bottle, and murmur something about her need to be alone.

College boyfriends. She hated every last one of them. They drank, they yelled. She was either far out of their league or she just found that something wasn't working. Her friends would grab onto her arms and moan over a 'really nice guy' she had said goodbye to for the last time in the library. A prude. Saving it for Jesus.

It was about knowing her place.

God was supposed to save her from Hell, but the physical embodiment of it stood before her, flinging insult after insult when she came home late. He beat her with every word he could until something hurt. And her mom did nothing.

Bitch.

Ugly.

Whore.

And, after months of yelling to no avail, he flared his nostrils and hissed: _Dyke_.

She had blushed and stepped back, her mouth opening slightly. Words didn't come, and her step-father smiled. It was like he had won the lottery.

 _"Why do you hate him? And why does he hate me_?"

" _Why do you hate your parents_?!" Trixie had lashed out, the rhetorical question hanging in the air. She had stared at Katya, as if she had thrown her own mother into the interstate, and the two stood in silence.

" _You know that's a shitty comparison, right_?"

Maybe it wasn't after all.

She sat on the opened couchbed, wiping at her cheeks with her wrists. Katya. The smell of tobacco still faint on her skin and the bed and flooding her apartment. The feeling crawling over her skin. 

What would happen if Katya never came back? 

To never steal a cigarette and smudge her lipstick on it again. To never see Katya blush behind a half-closed door when she saw Trixie wearing only a shirt in the morning. The smile that came to the blonde's face when Katya would stop listening mid-conversation, her eyes flickering between every meticulous curve and freckle, and then focusing on her lips.  

It was never a bad feeling.

In fact, she adored it. Making the rugged woman so flustered, doing her makeup and making her cry. The thrill. 

Everything had stopped being in the name of an insatiable God. All of her intentions were turned on their head and filled with new conviction - to care for the thick-skinned chainsmoker she had welcomed into her home.

And she loved her. More than God. 

She stared into the wall, the words seeping into her skin. _More than God._  

Trixie called into work sick four hours after Katya left. Or maybe she said family emergency, she couldn't remember. She just remembered asking, in a cracked voice and as soft as a prayer, to cash in the remaining week and a half of days off she had to use over the next year before hanging up.

God's love was indefinite and neverending, but in the hands of those He created, free love felt incredibly conditional. And all the love she had lived in for so long, the love she had lived with, the passing glances to women in bars and cafes, the feeling that buzzed at her fingertips when Katya held her so close -

She couldn't break her mom's heart like this.

She couldn't give her stepfather a loaded gun. Something else to hang over her mother's head, a failure in her raising because _don't you want your daughter in Heaven with you_? God, Trixie was afraid of Hell.

But Trixie lost her voice to choose, and maybe she didn't quite know when she lost it or when God cracked her heart in two and slipped a piece into Katya's rough hands. Maybe it was the way Katya stared at her when she was a little tipsy, and how the Russian mimicked Trixie's red wine voice so well. Maybe the late nights when Trixie would slowly end up with her head in Katya's lap during a movie neither of them cared about, and her hands would run through the loose strands of blonde hair like they were strung gold. Every word in Russian that made her chest tighten. Every awkward, racy compliment that was so signature to conversation with Katya, yet still made her face burn.

And the way that Trixie felt when Katya pulled away, so close, and they had locked eyes for a moment.

She cried a lot.

She cried because she finally knew what was happening, and could put a word to every feeling and every moment that she missed.

She cried because she was going to Hell, and beyond the ground she walked, she may never see her mother again.

She cried because she had scared Katya away. The thought that Katya was alone again, back where she started, and that all the stories she had been told that maybe, just maybe had begun to become pieces of the past were back in the forefront of Katya's life. The thought that Trixie stood beside Katya's parents, hand-in-hand, creating a human wall around her, locking the small woman in and never letting her free. Maybe in the excitement of it all, Katya's breath on her neck and with God's head turned away, Trixie had stopped hiding. Yeah, that had to be it. A moment of weakness.

She cried because she was happy.

" _Maybe you're gay, but not, like, gay-gay, right_?" a close friend had said in college, and Trixie hadn't responded.

She cried because none of that mattered, and she threw her phone in her purse and snatched her car keys off the table. Stumbling out the door and slamming it, trying to stay as quiet as she could in the dark of night. She would look until her eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. And she would sleep to keep herself alive, only to search again the second she woke.

" _One more question_?"

" _Sure. Shoot, Barbie_."

" _Mmm...what's the...worst quality in a lover?_ "

" _Being a man_."

It was funny, sure. But she laughed because it was true.

It was years in the making. To stand in a room filled with the men she had dated, shoulder-to-shoulder like a squadron, and look into their distant eyes with deep affirmation in her voice when she said: _"I neved loved any of you_.". For the path to clear, and for a single, thin frame to stand waiting between Trixie and the eyes of God. Backlit and shaking, with a small puff of smoke erupting from its mouth. To hold onto again, to turn her back on God and do anything to make things right again. To feel warmth. To hold and to never let go.

Trixie would tell God that this was about knowing her place and making things right. About being in a place of privilege, and about mending another's broken heart.

She would wander for days. From bus stop to bus stop, checking the soup kitchens and their church - was it really ever theirs? - and small cafes. She checked alleyways and downtown divisions, sleeping in her locked car and filling up on gas every day or so. She'd visit home to walk the dog and check to see if Katya had come back, to no avail.  She couldn't put a word to the feeling. It was a mission, maybe, but she didn't want the police, any friends, or anybody from the church to find Katya before she did. She wanted to be alone with Katya - no matter what state the Russian was in - so that she could hold her close again and apologize. She would search until she came across a small tent beside the riverbank that outlined the city limits, and God would come crashing down on her as she shakily stepped forward, unable to push the whispers of the Russian name past a shaking breath.

But Trixie wouldn't tell God that it was about being that close to Katya again.

She couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wow I should've uploaded sooner, I'm so sorry!! Katya's half of this chapter should be up tomorrow night, I hope!
> 
> Your responses to the last chapter were amazing. Thank you so much for the support, I'm so happy people love this as much as I enjoy writing it. 
> 
> I hope for updates to be more frequent !! Sorry for leaving you hanging ❤️ Thank you for reading, and feedback is always loved!


	18. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for slight internalized homophobia.

She ran, faster than she'd ever run before. The holes in her shoes, the setting sun, and God, laughing at her as she made her way down the street. Her eyes stung. The world was cruel. Katya was crueler.

Monster.

Katya stood at the bus stop, miles away. A stolen bike discarded on the other side of the road, a lit cigarette disintegrating between two fingers. She so easily slipped into her old ways, the bag of quarters hanging from her other hand. It was colder now. How many months had passed?

And for just how long had Katya been in love?

She shook her head, stepping onto the bus and gesturing to the bus driver. He rejected her quarters. Like he always did. Like he always would.

God, this new normal would take time to settle.

The bus was empty, but she still sat near tback. Leaning against the window, she lit another cig and set her bag on the floor. The soup kitchen was out of the picture, now. So was the church. Anywhere she would have to face Trixie's broken heart.

Trixie.

Was she even allowed to think about kissing Trixie?

She was soft and gentle, like always. Her breath cut short, and her hands fell limp around Katya's wrists. And in the thrill of finally acting on the boiling sensation in her stomach, she could've sworn the Godly woman had begun to kiss her back.

No. It was just her imagination. Katya could only imagine.

Maybe Trixie had cried. Maybe she had stepped in the shattered glass on the floor, maybe she felt betrayed and lied to. Maybe she knew who Katya was now. And maybe she hated that person.

The bus traveled all around town, through the low-lit neighborhoods and strip malls. Restaurants and alleyways, all shining a light blue against the darkened city streets.

" _What hurt the most, when you were young_?" Trixie would pry more with a little wine in her system.

" _Losing people you thought you couldn't lose_."

"Ah." She exhaled a cloud of gray smoke, her eyes watering. No. Fuck, fuck, please no. Her memory was a crueler beast than she was.

" _I was thinking we could get a tree for the holidays...And I can find sparkling water for New Years, since you don't drink_."

" _Thinking far ahead, huh, kukla_?"

" _Well, yeah. I love thinking about these sorts of things now_."

Katya could feel herself slipping, so she pulled the bag into her arms. If anybody wanted to, it would be easy to snatch it from her weakened hands, but she probably looked too pathetic to steal from. The lull of stop and go, and the need to escape her breaking heart. It all tugged her downward, underwater, underground. Where warmth and comfort were expected. Where Trixie wasn't a piece of her past.

Sleep was the only place to go.

_"You think this will be okay? Not too many bugs, right?"_

_The blonde woman stamped her feet into the green grass, smiling back at Katya. A green, neverending field, with blue skies and white, puffy clouds. She held the parasol in her hand daintily, barely covering her pink cheeks and long, curled hair._

_"Yeah. Should be." The backpack slid from her shoulders and she tugged the gingham blanket out of the open back pocket._

_"I always wanted to have a picnic as a kid, y'know. It seemed like a rich people thing."_

_"You're covered in lace, kukla. What were you saying about rich people things?"_

_"Mmm." An angel, back turned, missing her wings. Katya glanced between her and the backpack as she sat down, looking down at her slacks and button down shirt. Maybe she should've worn a tie. It would've been more convincing. "I don't have to be rich to look nice."_

_The parasol dropped to the ground, and suddenly the angel was seated beside Katya. A hand on her knee. Inches away._

_"I know that."_

_"Isn't this fun?" Her breath was golden warmth. "Just us. So far away."_

_"Yeah. It is." Her gaze flicked over the freckled face, lingering on her lips for a second too long._

_An acrylic nail pressed against her lips, and she smiled so sweetly. "You know that's not an option."_

_"What?"_

_"Even if I did love you, didn't you just break my heart?"_

_Her hands jerked from the angel's waist and she tilted her chin downward._

_"You didn't even give me a chance to say anything back. What if I wanted to kiss you again?"_

_"Then you could just...fucking do that."_

_"But I'm not here."_

_"Yeah." She turned her head away and the blonde grabbed her by the jaw with both hands, pulling her closer. It wasn't fear. It was guilt._

_"Do you just want somebody to drag to Hell with you? Do you want to give the image of God a bad name? Are you trying to make me as disgusting as you?"_

_"Trix, I..."_

_"Do you want me to die?"_

_She leaned even closer, their noses brushing and foreheads touching. Golden hair. Brown eyes. Things that Katya would never forget._

_"After all I've done for you...why would you love me like that?"_

When Katya awoke, the sun had just barely breached the horizon. She clung to her bag, wiping at her eyes and cracking her back. God could take her anywhere He wanted. She wouldn't mind.

Maybe loving Trixie behind closed eyelids would work best.

Katya knew she should leave the city. Walk down the highways like she used to, one hand pointed westward. See the passing faces of people who thought they knew everything, but never really did. Her parents roaring by one more time, looking into her eyes before rounding the corner and never looking back.

But she couldn't.

She watched the city lights turn on, one by one, glistening over the skyline like morning stars. The new workday beginning. Princess was probably itching for a walk right now. Katya rode the city limits for days, talking to few and blasting through cigarettes. The day she got off the bus, she headed straight for the river.

It had been her home for countless months. It was obvious a few people had passed through, ruining her usual set-up, but it wasn't that hard to recreate. She tied her hammock between a tree off the riverbank and one in the grass. Her tent was a pain in the ass, but important. Looking to the sky, the scattered, perforated clouds suggested rain. Rain for days. And Katya had nowhere to go, save for exactly where she stood.

It was easy to forget how fragile her body was. Overworked, with little to no food left in her system, cigarette ash drifting through her blood, and pieces of her heart scattered across the town. When she pulled herself into the tent and zipped it close, she collapsed into the earth and cried.

This probably wasn't what her mom meant when she said that the world would be a lot harder on young Katya, with wide, bright eyes and a thick accent.

Her whole body cried. She heaved against the dirt, her palms over her eyes as she sobbed and her elbows pointed towards Heaven. She hadn't cried in so long.

Not before she met Trixie, at least.

Crying in Trixie's arms in the church. Crying in her apartment, crying in her car. Panic controlling every fiber of her being, and the soft southern drawl pulling her from the edge. And it didn't this time, because it couldn't, and when Katya tried to remember what Trixie's voice sounded like, it didn't play back in her head quite right. So she cried even more, because everything was changing, and she couldn't stop the world from spinning.

Because God had never meant for things to go right, did he?

She cried herself to sleep and this time, she dreamed of nothing. That wasn't a good thing.

It was dark when she awoke, but it was probably mid-to-late afternoon. Thunder rumbled overhead and the trees rustled against each other. Katya sat forward, rubbing at her eyes and shaking. She didn't know if she wanted to find food, to get water from the river. Maybe this was God's doing, the cause and effect, the inevitable reeling sense of karma.

And then she heard it.

A car screeching to a stop, pulling off the highway and parking somewhere in the open area. The door being flung open, followed by labored coughs and staggered footsteps. Katya sat forward. She was usually prepared for the highway crazies. Those with no shame or inhibition. The ones that her family would've told her would rape and kill her.

But with nothing left in her body to give, she resigned herself to whatever was to come.

Soft whispers and a cracked voice. She inhaled slowly and stared at the front of her tent, eyes distant and empty.

"Please, I..." The outline of a hand pressed into the tent wall. This was it.

"I...H-hello? I'm...please, I'm looking for, for someone..."" 

Energy surged through her body, and the Russian snapped forward, ripping the zipper down the front of the tent and staring up into the brown eyes and freckled cheeks.

"What-"

"Oh, oh God," the angel whispered, falling to her knees and hiding her face with her hands. "I can't tell you how many fuckin' tents I've almost torn apart...a-and they all looked like yours, so I thought...I-I thought..."

Katya stared at the mess of blonde hair in front of her, blinking twice and shaking her head. God loved pranks like this.

"Please..." She lifted her head, and Katya saw her again.

The same woman that sat under the stained glass, eyes wide when Katya broke into the church to escape an oncoming storm. Her frame outlined in gold, brought forth by the grace of God, a savior. The holiest woman alive, with cracks of thunder erupting beyond her, and she didn't even shake as she began to cry.

"I....K-Katya, I-"

And then the Russian leaned forward, grabbing her Godly woman by the forearm and pulling her into the tent. Close again. Pressed against her chest. She wrapped her arms around her, the warmth pulsing through her veins as she leaned into the blonde's shoulders. The blonde whined in her arms, sobbing quietly, and Katya pressed a hand against the back of the angel's head. Murmuring soft nothings into her ear, rocking Trixie back and forth as the world began to slow. 

Saying goodbye would be so hard.

 

So very hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katya's POV of the last chapter! 
> 
> I couldn't bear to draw out their time apart, so next chapter we'll get into the reunion - which I hope to have out sometime this week. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! ❤️ Feedback is always loved. And I'd love to know - do you want more past their reunion and subsequent resolution? Should we get into stuff involving Katya/Trixie's families, or should this fic end after this arc? 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful week ❤️
> 
> kukla - doll


	19. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important update in the notes. Please read. Love you all ❤️

_I'm sorry_. The words in her throat.

A hand cradling her scalp, the other holding the small of her back.

"How long has it been?"

"O-only a week..."

"Only. Only." Katya leaned into the blonde's shoulder, sighing. "I fucked up so bad in just one week."

"Can I-"

"Yeah. Of course. Anything."

Trixie pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "Why...Why did you run away from me?"

"Tri-"

"No, I. I'm _not_ done yet!" She raised her head, planting closed fists onto her thighs. "I, I...My whole world, Katya...it feels like everything...I want to be angry, so fucking badly, but..." Trixie exhaled, a slow tremor following course down her body. "I'm so, so relieved, so I-I'm gonna pretend to be angry, okay?"

"Okay, baby." She reached a hand out and the blonde flinched. Oh.

Maybe she really was angry.

"You h-have no idea...no idea what it's like. Where you want so badly for something to happen, but, but you're so fucking scared that when it does happen...you have to pull away. And...a-and you ruin it, like you always do."

"What're you talking about?" Katya raised a brow, wishing Trixie would let her touch her again.

"I couldn't stop thinking that...someday...five, ten years, I won't know where you are. Or what you're doing or who you're with. Or what's happened or if you really did want me that day, or if...y-you just wanted to hurt me."

"I...I wouldn't...you know that."

"Is it because it's convenient? Am I fun to tease?"

Katya sat back, eyes wide. God, Trixie sounded a lot like the angel from her dreams.

"Did you kiss me because it was easy?"

"What about that looked _easy_ to you," she deadpanned, looking at Trixie with a distant gaze. Maybe if she made the blonde hate her, the inevitable goodbye would be easier.

"I...I can't..."

"I know you can't, Trixie. That's why I had to go. I'm...really tired of good things happening, only for me to ruin 'em. And I can't ruin things for you. Not you." She pulled a hand across her legs and sighed. "Never you."

"I can't let you go." A strained whisper.  

"What?"

"I've always...just pushed away boyfriends and...a-and shitty people who came onto me, and my step-dad, and..." Trixie wiped at her eyes with her wrists, her fingers curling daintily into her palms. "A-and I've been able to wake up the next morning and say I never loved them in the first place. But I...I can't do that now, Katya. I can't."

Katya sat in silence, her skin crawling. Trixie had an aura that overtook her. The blonde made her feel drunk and sorry for herself.

"I...I get the feeling you don't understand why I left. I couldn't do that anymore, Trix. And it's selfish, I know, but...I can live by the river and chainsmoke myself to death. But I can't...y'know."

"You can't what?" Trixie leaned forward, her hair dangling over Katya's knees and thighs. Her breath hitched. Torture.

"I just can't."

"Because I can't live like this either." She exhaled slowly and stared right into the Russian's eyes, her hands inching forward. "Jumping between the church and life with you, pretending that there isn't a disconnect, pretending that I hate it when you're close or touching me because it's what I think God wants - it's so _painful_ , Katya."

"I can't take you from God." Katya found her hands dragging through the dirt toward Trixie's. "I wasn't just telling you that I...That I'm gay."

"And I didn't have the chance to tell you anything."

"I'm sorry." She let her hand fall on top of the broken and cracked acrylic fingernails. "But I don't think it would've helped, honestly. I...guess I already had an answer. Because I know you would've said we can make things work even with the way I feel, and we could live like friends like we always have, but I don't want that. Okay? I don't want that. I can't _live_ like that. And your southern heart is probably telling you that you should fight me on it, right?"

She closed her eyes, trying to slow down, but the thoughts poured out of her mouth. Trixie's fingers lacing with hers, the slow rumble of the earth beneath them. God, this hurt.

"That's why I had to go. Because I can't say no to anything that you ask. I would tell you that we can live like friends even if I can't. I would tell you I could make it work even if it would kill me. And I'd chainsmoke myself into a corner and watch you marry off to some stupid bastard from your church who let you drink too much and didn't take care of you and doesn't like your dog, like all the others you've told me about. I couldn't watch that happen. I wouldn't let that happen if I was there. Not to my angel." She opened her eyes again, staring at the ground. "So I had to go."

"Angel? _Your_ angel?" Her demeanor suddenly turned, softer and unaccusing. She glowed.

"I. Did I say that?"

"Yeah. You did." And she smiled so warmly that Katya thought she might burn.

"I, uhm...well, if I'm being honest - you've never really seemed. Real? Yeah, you never seemed real to me."

"Then what am I?"

"An angel." A Godly woman. "Because I prayed for God to send something to fix me, and here you are. An angel who did her best."

"What about me, then? Am I just a pawn in your plan?"

"I guess not. It's not fair to you."

"Mmmm, then...I have this idea - a theory," Trixie began, "that maybe...maybe God isn't always watching."

"Oh?"

"And that He's not always watching when good things happen. Because He just has to let some things happen, without intervening or moving things around, because it was meant to happen, without His help or not."

"So you're not an angel?"

"No." It was a low murmur, enough for Katya to raise her head. Trixie, glowing in the dark of the tent, her expression soft and mundane. Beyond heavenly. Beyond. "I'm just Trixie."

She pulled her hand away from Katya's, and suddenly pressed a finger into the bare skin under the Russian's collarbones. "And you are just Katya. Not a monster, not a stain on the good word of God, with no mistakes in her creation."

And then it all happened so quickly.

Trixie's hand pressed against Katya's chest, her fingers curling into the hem of her shirt. Their clasped palms pushing against the ground, the tug on her shirt and the blooming feel of warmth. It felt so similar, the same rush and thrill, but gentle.

Katya couldn't retell it exactly like it happened, and maybe that was for the better. But when Trixie pulled away, she felt fulfilled and denied, completely whole and broken apart, despite only being centimeters away. Her hand still held against the Russian's clavicle, pointer finger resting lightly in the dip beneath her neck.

But she still wasn't sure.

"Uhm."

"Yeah."

"I."

The angel pulled herself closer, smiling in spite of herself. "Right?"

"Wait, I...I don't think I get it, Trixie."

"Okay. Tell me where I lose you."

"Well..." Small drops of rain began to hit the walls of the tent, and Katya realized how close they were. Sitting on her calves, her knees splayed and Trixie somehow managing to squeeze her knees between the Russian's thighs. "What, uhm...this is okay?"

"It's what I would've done if you had given me the time."

"I...thought you were angry."

"I was. Maybe I am." Her fingers trailed up Katya's neck, cupping her cheeks in the darkness of the tent. "But I...I'm just so fucking relieved that nothing happened to you. I thought...I'd come back to an empty tent, or...I'd find you and would never be able to apologize for what I did."

"You don't need to apologize for shit, _kukla_."

"I made you think something was wrong with you." Her hands creeped back to her temples, running through her hair. "I made you think...t-that I was like your parents."

"No, I just...o, _dozhe_ , Trixie, I can barely think right now."

"Mmmm. _Dozhe_? That's...God, right?" She repeated the word clumsily, and it was so fucking charming that Katya wished she was bold enough to kiss her angel again. "Look at me, Katya. Please."

And so, she did. She lifted her head and stared at Trixie, every freckle and spot exactly where she remembered them to be, her eyes just as deep and her expressions just as soft.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Katya. Regardless of any God that you've run from or anything I've done to make you feel otherwise. And...a-and even if we both go to Hell, I couldn't...I couldn't let you go alone."

_No._

"Stop it."

Trixie. In Hell. After all the work she had done, after the life of being the person she was. Punished for taking in a wretch. Katya knew she couldn't cross that line.

"W..what?"

"Please, just go."

Trixie's hands dropped, her eyes wide. "I..."

"I can't do that to you, Trixie, I just _can't_. I'm not worth it and you fucking know that. And I'm...I'm at my wits' end trying to resist you. T-there's a turning point that I can't come back from."

"I...t-that's why I'm saying-"

"I love you, Trixie. I'm _in_ love with you." It was a declaration, loud and clear as day.

Trixie's expression didn't change.

"T...there. Okay. I said it, fuck. I love you. So I can't go dragging you to Hell with me, Trixie. I can't just suddenly ruin your life. It would be so disgusting and selfish and cruel, and when you eventually come to your fucking senses and realize what a monster I am, I'll always be like...a stain on your past. And when your kids and grandkids ask you what your twenties were like, you'll think about that time you hooked up with an ugly lesbian homewrecker who fell head over heels for you in only a few months and condemned you to Hell by loving you...Never seeing your family in heaven because I manipulated you into thinking of me like this. Doesn't that just feel fuckin' gross? Aren't I gross, _kukla_? Don't kiss me because you pity me. I'm over it."

"You aren't. Katya, I...don't say that. You sound like my step-dad."

"Then maybe he's smarter than you think."

"I drove around for days. Waiting and hoping and crying. Alone. I left my apartment unlocked just in case you'd come back."

"Stupid." The word slipped out without thought. Trixie lowered her head.

"Yeah. It was," she breathed. "But it was only stupid because you never came back. It's still unlocked right now."

"Then fucking go home. Go home, Trixie. I'm really doing my best here."

"At what?"

"Keeping you from pitying me. _Ya nenavizhu eto_."

"I get this feeling in my chest whenever you speak in Russian." She turned her head to the side, looking at the darkening walls of the tent.

Katya perked up. "What?"

"And when you had your arms around my waist, I thought...I thought you'd laugh when you saw my face." The blonde inhaled slowly. "And I thought...I thought you'd give me more time to tell you everything."

"Trixie, just go. Okay? Get out-"

"I guess we've technically lived together for a while, so we're good at doing things backwards."

"It's raining, and your car door's still open." Katya just kept talking, not even aware of the words spilling out of her mouth, her eyes not leaving the blonde's lips. "Go. Please."

"And I...things never really have been traditional at all for me."

"Trixie, go the fuck home, this isn't right, I don't want you here-"

"I'm not afraid of you anymore." She turned her head back to Katya, strands of hair hanging over her face.

The Russian's mouth hung open for a moment, and she snapped it closed when Trixie smiled.

"My step-dad, God, you. None of it. I'd give you all loaded guns if it meant things could finally feel right."

"Trixie-"

"I think this is one of those things thats just supposed to happen. And I couldn't avoid you, Katya, just like you couldn't avoid me. No matter how hard we tried." She sat back, sighing quietly and letting her nails graze over Katya's arms. "So can you just...say it again? Or do it again? I...I know what to do now."

Trixie pulled her arms into her lap, sitting still. She looked fragile. Breakable. With all the hopes stacked into that exact moment, her heart on high and fearless of any God. And she stared at Katya like she held all the light in the world.

What's one to do?

It's everything that Katya wanted but knew she shouldn't take. It's a hurricane of problems spiraling off her coast, ready to blast through the happiness bubbling in her chest. The woman who robbed and arrested her, the woman who stole and punished. The spirit of God, soft and golden. Love, and all of its terrifying faces.

Somehow, it was all just Trixie.

There was no way for this to feel right.

But, God, kissing Trixie absolutely felt right.

Maybe she grabbed her, maybe it was a little forceful, maybe the blonde jumped a little when she was pulled into Katya's lap. But it was sweet, and it wasn't like she was lacking or hungry. She was whole. She always had been, the only difference was that she was sure of it now.

And Trixie was alive. She pressed into Katya, her fingers trailing up the Russian's chest and over her shoulders. Filled with a warmth beyond feeling. Like Heaven in her arms.

The earth rumbled beneath them as Katya broke the kiss and lowered her head, pressing her forehead against Trixie's neck.

"God's pissed. Can't you hear it? I feel like I'm gonna die."

A hand pressed into her back and she could feel Trixie's heartbeat settle.

"Mmm...no, it's just us, I think. God doesn't need to be witness to everything."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. And y'know the whole thing about no witnesses."

"What?" She lifted her head, and Trixie beamed down at her.

"No witnesses, no crime."

"... _Dozhe_ , you're...you..." _Gorgeous. You know exactly what to say. How could I not fall for you?_ "You...took your contacts out." Her hand extended, brushing golden strands behind Trixie's ear. The blonde stared back at her.

"I...I mean, yeah. I don't think I could keep them in for a full week. Is it bad? Didn't you not like 'em?"

"You're just _really_ fucking pretty."

Trixie threw her head to the side, her cheeks puffing like a chipmunk before breaking out into shrieks of laughter.

"Am I - am I supposed to get used to that?!"

"What, I always said shit like that before!" She straightened her back and felt her cheeks warm. Trixie...made her feel embarrassed, and it was surreal. "And, y'know what, fuck you, yes. I'm gonna tell you all the time. You can't escape it."

"Mmm, why would I want to?" The blonde leaned forward, her gaze flicking from Katya's eyes to her lips. "Isn't this the point-"

A crack of thunder exploded overhead, and when Katya opened her eyes again, she was pressed against the dirt with Trixie huddled on top of her. Stifling laughter, she pressed the back of a hand against the blonde's cheek.

"I didn't know you were afraid of thunder-"

"I love you."

It was soft confession, her eyes squeezed shut and her forearms pressed against Katya's ribs. Every word imaginable was caught in her throat, both in English and Russian.

"Please don't break my heart again and leave."

The divide between them was crushed. Trixie, shivering on her chest, and Katya, staring up at the tent ceiling. She wrapped her arms across the blonde's back, her hands clasping and resting in the grooves of her spine. Sitting forward and Trixie moving so easily with her, the word of God in her lap, and the soft-spoken truth resonating like the church piano.

"I love you, Katya. Please come home."

The Godly woman, good and true, with Katya wrapped so tightly around her finger. The words she heard whispered in dreams. And a feeling of satisfaction that she never thought would manifest into reality.

All the years of doing what was right and loving quietly were worth something.

Maybe God had kept her quiet for so long, saving this feeling for the only woman in the world.

"I..."

Or maybe God just didn't fucking matter.

"If you'll have me, then please."

  
They sat like that for a long time. Catching up. Katya's hands falling to the small of Trixie's back, murmuring soft Russian apologies as the blonde explained where and how she had looked in town for the weathered bookbag and tent. Short kisses to remind Katya that everything was real. And eventually, they looked to the tent zipper without speaking. Linking hands and taking everything slow, with the gentle rain and winds. Like if they walked too quickly, the world may shatter beneath them. Everything was delicate.

In the car, Trixie sighed and flipped on the front seat lights. She turned her head to meet Katya's gaze. Both with wet hair, both with an ear pressed into the head of their seats, both floating somewhere that God couldn't reach.

"Should we pack up the tent?" Trixie broke the silence, holding out a hand.

"Mmm..." Without hesitation, Katya laced her fingers with Trixie's. The tent, open, filled with rain. Her backpack and her quarters, her empty cig box, and the years of running. It was her lifeblood for all those years. Her safety.

But when she looked at Trixie, she knew that nothing could pull her from the car and away from her angel. The woman she loved.

"I don't think I need it anymore."

Silence.

And then the Godly woman smiled.

"I don't think so, either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they'll get the tent eventually. No pollution in this house, mama. 
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me!! I hope this chapter was worth it!! ❤️ Some sadness and goofyness. Man, love is fun, isn't it?  
> (Also, did you guys clock the slick title-of-fic reference? Couldn't help myself.)
> 
> VERY BIG IMPORTANT UPDATE PLEASE READ:  
> At this very moment, I am STUCK in the target city for Hurricane Florence.  
> I wanted to give you all a chapter that feels good and final, but do know that I'll continue updating eventually. I can't tell you when because I'm probably going to lose power. I hope to be back within a week or two, but nothing is guaranteed. 
> 
> Please stay safe, and I'm sending love to all of you. ❤️ I hope you've enjoyed the story thus far! 
> 
> kukla - doll  
> dozhe - god  
> Ya nenavizhu eto - I hate this


	20. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Slight mentions of abuse. Please enjoy!

Katya hadn't prayed since the day she met Trixie.

And yet she sat in the passenger's seat of the car, head brought down to her clasped hands.

To the love she had known in others, rebirthed in Trixie's image. For the person she was, convicted and crucified, left to run into the arms of the one she needed most. For the God who had brought her an angel. He could punish her in any way, and He could condemn her to Hell for eternities passed, but please. Please God, spare the angel.

For the love of God, spare the angel.

All for you.

You.

Simple and moving, a fluid thought without definite location. Trixie. Trixie. Trixie.

Home. A twenty minute long celebration with Princess, who catapulted herself into the Russian and knocked her to the floor. Stripping off a soaking wet jacket, pulling her hair back, and watching Trixie throw together her apartment again. All things that resonated so deeply with Katya's new sense of comfort. Her spine prickled with guilt when she saw the picture frame, still face-down on the carpet floor. The world was brand new, but painfully similar to how she had thought things would always be.

An hour later, Katya laid on the pink bed in Trixie's apartment, staring at the smooth ceiling. Almost as if she didn't focus hard enough, the world where Trixie kissed her back would disappear.

"You might have to convince me...that all that actually just happened. Like, if I'm a fucking nutcase in the morning."

Trixie walked out of the bathroom, her hair in a towel. Like an angel, with steam floating behind her frame. She had already shoved Katya into the shower. It was two in the morning.

"Mmm...only if you'll do the same."

"What the _fuck_ , man." The Russian leaned into the frame of Trixie's bed, covering her eyes with her palms. "Y'know those dreams where you have a lot more courage than usual?"

Trixie sat at the foot of the bed. "Yeah, of course."

"I feel like I just walked into the hot cheerleader from high school's bedroom and said 'you will fall in love with me' and then she did."

"I was never a hot cheerleader!"

"Yeah, obviously. You were the hotter-than-hot-final-boss-shy-girl. Who's smart and kind and can sing. And is, y'know, hourglass Barbie two-point-oh."

"Barbie wishes."

"Oh, God, I bet she does." Katya sat up, pulling her hands away from her face. Trixie had shifted to sit right beside her, smiling so gently that it almost felt hesitant.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Are you nervous, _kukla_?"

"Of course I'm nervous. I'm so fucking nervous."

"Do you think that's normal?"

"I mean...maybe when it's right."

Katya's hands crept up to Trixie's jaw, leaning forward to kiss her.

" _Dozhe_ , you're still real."

She hummed in response, pressing her palms against Katya's hands. "Mm. Can...I....Uhm."

"Spit it out."

"Would you sleep in here with me tonight?" Her eyes were shut tightly, her face reddening and her hands warming against Katya's.

The Russian stared at her, the same warmth coming to her own cheeks. "Trixie..."

"I just...don't want to...be alone, I. I missed you."

"Why're you so scared to ask?"

"Because I...I'm new to all of this shit! Maybe it's nerves, I don't know... It's like. There's finally something to lose. And that...yeah." She tugged the towel off her head and sighed, running her fingers through the strands of darkened hair. "I probably sound fucking corny...sorry."

"Corny's fun."

Everything was different about Trixie. Katya was accustomed to a streamlined life, a straight highway with girls as pitstops along the way. She could recall pushing away several girls who had attempted to be affectionate towards her after sex or casual affairs, a cigarette already lit in one hand and her backpack in the other.

This time, Katya was the one to lace her arms around a woman's waist. It was Katya pressing kisses into a freckled shoulder. It was Katya, loving and worshipping.

Trixie rolled over, pressed her cheek against Katya's clavicle.

"You can probably go back to the living room tomorrow night if you want. I just. I dunno."

"I don't know much, either."

"I knooow, but...This is just different. I think this is what I wanted to do whenever I'd crash with you in the living room, and had no idea why."

"Well, holy shit, Barbara. Isn't it cool we can do it now?" She kissed the blonde's forehead. "And isn't nice knowing why?"

It would've put too much emphasis on one person to say that Trixie was everything Katya had waited for.

But with the words caught in her throat, she knew it was pretty fucking close to the truth.

_"But what will happen when its over?"_

_Katya, pushed into the corner of the bed from her childhood. The looming shadow. Her mother in the doorway._

_"You'll have robbed her of her chance to be normal. She'll be damned to Hell. Stuck with you because you used her."_

_Cigarettes in her middle school bathroom. Standing by the kitchen window, smoke drifting from her lips, waiting for the car to pull up her all-American driveway._

_"I didn't raise a fucking devil child. Do you know how fucking hard we worked to get her? A shame on this family."_

_When Katya first kissed one of her friends on a dare at a party, she didn't feel much. The buzz of shitty screwdrivers bouncing around in her blood, maybe. But love? No. Maybe things would be normal after all._

_"Get out."_

_Holes broken into walls. Bruises all down her ribs. Blood splattered at her doorway. Crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. The whole world, purple and yellow and gray and blackening, with the red tints of burst blood vessels peaking through_.

_"Get out, NOW!"_

_No, it could never be normal. Not if this was the path to normal._

_"None of it is worth it."_

_Blonde hair dangling in front of her vision, just beyond the steps leading to her house. The notes of a guitar dancing around her. The world moving slowly as she crawled for the front door._

_"None of it will EVER fucking be worth it."_

_Standing on the side of the highway, from bus stop to bus stop, and a finger pointed westward. The image of her mother in a car window, staring as they sped away. A car coming to a slow stop, a hand hanging out the window adorned with pink acrylic nails._

_"All you do is ruin people's lives."_

_Please God, just let me believe he's wrong._

Katya awoke with a start, her breath short and gasping. A mass of warmth in her arms. She looked down to see Trixie, her hair pulled into a loose bun, pressed against her chest.

_Why didn't I meet you when I was younger?_

She leaned into the mass of blonde hair.

_Why didn't I tell you I loved you sooner?_

The image of a God, standing in the doorway of the church. Her figure backlit by stars. Her eyes bright, a softness to each step, and an aura that commanded respect. Trixie. The night they met. The creeping feeling that everything, everything happens for a reason.

Katya managed to pull away from Trixie without waking her up, relishing in the warmth for as long as she could before slipping off the bed completely.

The kitchen felt warm. She knew where everything was and where everything was meant to be. The clock on Trixie's wall said it was eight o'clock in the morning, which seemed fair. Her phone buzzed loudly on the counter and Katya glanced over the messages, opting for the kettle instead of answering them. Making tea for the blonde wouldn't be too crazy this early in the morning - especially given the night they'd had.

Maybe she could make tea for Trixie every morning.

She smiled in spite of herself. Bringing tea to her angel every morning. Her God. Testing her pinky in the water, flinching, and taking out a tea bag from a small dish on the counter. The domestic life never suited Katya, but she was infatuated with the idea of being normal. This is where she would start.

"K-Katya!"

A soft whisper. She turned at the sound of her name to meet Trixie's gaze. The angel stood in the doorway with her sleep shirt hiked up over one side of her underwear, her cheeks pink, the sheets still tangled between her legs as if she'd thrown herself out of bed.

"...This feels rather upfront." Katya scanned over Trixie, smirking.

But then -

"O-oh...oh, God, you're...I-I thought...you..."

She was shaking.

"Kukla?"

Katya threw the drink down on the counter and stepped towards the blonde, immediately bringing her hands to her jawline. "What - is everything - are you-"

"I-I...I woke up, and-"

Oh.

"You...you were gone again, and...I-I _believed_ it."

No matter how perfect love felt, it was full of mistakes. Patience, and an attempt to not be invasive - everything Trixie had given her for so long.

_I hurt you._

And she was so afraid.

She pulled Trixie into her arms, melting when the blonde lowered her head to Katya's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, _krasavitsa_."

_What if this doesn't work out? What will you do if one of us has to run? What if I ruin everything? What if we worked so hard for only a day or two of what we wanted?_

Would it still be worth it?

"Trixie...I can't figure out if this is really good or really extraordinarily fucking bad."

Honesty like that was necessary when you really cared, Katya knew. Bouncing between the heavy highs and lows of everything new. Everything new that she could so easily lose.

Trixie was quiet.

"I mean, on the surface it's really fucking obviously a good thing, but - have I already fucked up too badly? I, I just too easily hurt you, I think. You deserve normal. And somebody who isn't this...y'know. Layered. Multi-faceted."

Silence.

"I don't want you to resent me and associate me with so much pain. But, I mean...I'm not...I just want you to be happy and normal. Not happy with such crazy-ass highs and lows. That's...fuckin' emotionally draining- Trix?"

The blonde had laced her fingers with Katya's left hand, holding it out beside their joined waists. She brought Katya's right hand around her hips, burying her face back into the Russian's shoulder.

"What're you-"

"Normal," she murmured, humming under her breath as she stepped from side to side. Muffled laughter, soft and airy, when Katya remained frozen in place. "You follow my lead, idiot."

"Oh."

It was a shitty two-step, swaying to the beat of whatever Trixie wanted to hum. Calm and homely. Katya's sweaty palm, Trixie's free hand resting in the crook of her neck. A disgusting amount of familiarity and warmth floated through her body, so much so that a version of herself not much younger than she was now would've laughed and made bets on the inevitable breakup. Dancing on the toes of a loved one in their kitchen. Whatever worm hole she'd travelled through made life feel painfully good.

"Can I be really honest with you?" Trixie murmured into her shoulder.

"Always, you know that."

"I could live without you."

Katya froze, her hand falling limp around Trixie's waist. "Wh-"

"But I just don't _want_ to."

Ah.

"You didn't even have to come home with me - I mean, I wouldn't want you to be alone, but...I knew I couldn't force you. No matter how much it felt like it was supposed to happen. I looked for you because I couldn't just let you run away like that. I could live without you, but I couldn't live with letting you go on those terms. If I told you that...that I didn't think you were disgusting, that I might've felt the same way, and you still didn't want to ever see me again, then so be it. I just really needed you to know."

She pulled her hand from Katya's and lifted her head, pressing their foreheads together and balancing her forearms on the Russian's shoulders.

"So if you ever need to go, then go. And if I get hurt, that sucks. But I've been a cynical bitch hiding behind the good-girl character and you saw past that. I got to be honest with you and myself for the first time in a really long time. Nothing is forced - or at least, I hope not. This is just me cashing in. To the hopes of making shit work and finally feeling like I'm not hiding anything. And I hope...I really hope this is you being honest, too."

"You know I don't deserve that, right?"

"I think you deserve it. And you gotta let me have opinions to make shit work."

The Russian exhaled. "Wow."

Katya stared at Trixie, unable to wrap her head around what the angel has said. Love was going to be different than what she saw in others. This wasn't restricting or demanding, it was the natural course for them. It didn't feel restricting. It was a two-way street where Katya didn't need to mirror each exact move of her partner. And regardless of Katya's particular ability to act like a piece of shit most days, she stayed exactly where she was. It wasn't God's doing. It wasn't anybody's will but her own.

"Wow, what?"

"Just - y'know. Wow. This must be it."

"It?"

"It."

"Like a...good 'it'?" Trixie raised a brow.

"Yeah. It's the it in 'we made it'."

The blonde smiled. "Oh! Okay, I like that."

"God, what the fuck has happened to me?" Katya wheezed, clasping her hands in the small of Trixie's back. "Holding a living doll after making her tea, telling her how she makes me happy - I've had my hands in God knows how many women and this is the gayest shit I've ever done in my life."

Trixie's eyes widened. "Tea?"

"Yeah-"

She ripped away from Katya, snatching the cup off the counter and staring into it. "You didn't ash into this? No spit?"

"I, no, neither?"

"Aw." Katya had never noticed that she drank with a pinky out. "How boring."

"I could if you wanted."

"You really do care..." She batted her lashes and put the cup down, lacing an arm around Katya's waist.

"The fuck does tea mean to you, a teabag seeping in backwash!?"

"Only if it's yours."

"Rotted skunk."

And Trixie kissed her cheek so casually. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Maybe because it _was_ normal.

Katya stood, basking in the comfort and confusion of how right things felt, before jumping to attention. "Oh! You, uh...you're getting ass-blasted by people in your phone. I'm guessing you've been ignoring them for the past week?"

"Oh. Oh, shit, fuck me."

Twenty minutes passed. They sat at the table together, Trixie responding to the plethora of missed messages and a few calls while Katya apologized profusely.

"It was just a situation with the girl staying at my apartment," Trixie read off to Katya. It was a group text between Trixie, coworkers, and college friends alike. The blonde called it her 'friend group'. "And then Kim said- nevermind, Kim's a dumb bitch. I told them things were okay and we're both safe."

"What did Kim say?"

"Mmm...she asked if it was the hot Russian girl..."

"Who's that? Could you introduce me?"

"Shut up, whore - oh, they...Oh, I can't do that."

"What?"

Trixie turned the phone to face Katya. "They wanna meet up for drinks before I start back at work. Checking in and everything. I think they have me figured out." She smiled sheepishly. "But...I don't think you'd wanna meet them quite yet, and I can't leave you alone-"

"Go! Princess and I will hold down the fort!"

"...Really?"

"I can't keep you hidden from your friends, _kukla_." With her cheek pressed into the table, she reached an arm out to hold Trixie's free hand. "But you gotta tell me everything about these friends before you go. I'm insanely curious."

So, she did. With fingers intertwined and the phone pushed to the side. Talking and laughing like they always did, and hopefully always would. The tea Katya made, half-empty, and the blanket from Trixie's bed hanging off of her shoulders. Stories of eyebrow shaving and face-painting, blackouts in college, telling her friends about the Russian with a really nice jawline and refusing to hook up any of her friends with her new roommate. A handful of names - Kim who loves makeup, the Max who won't go to bars, Naomi the beautiful one, Thorgy who never stops smiling, Pearl who gets tired and goes home early. Quieter days, graduation, yelling at straight guys, being teased for talking about her roommate at work. Everything circled back to Katya.

"God, they're not gonna let me live another week without meeting you. I told too many stories."

"How much do they know about me?"

"Well." The blonde avoided Katya's gaze, opting to focus on her hands instead. "I, well...I told them that I met this girl at the soup kitchen. And they were like 'don't you meet lots of people there?' so I talked about how this one flirted with me in Russian with a bible in her hands."

Katya wheezed. "You make me sound really fucking special."

"I mean, it made you interesting. Can't say that about a lot of people." She sighed. "I skipped over the part where I found you in the church, and instead just told them you needed a place to stay...they probably saw through what that meant. I talked about how you said you'd let me use you as a facechart at work. And how I was jealous of how good you looked in red lipstick. And then when one of them asked to meet you - they're real whores, okay - I said no. I probably just got drunk and couldn't shut up about you. That's when they were like 'oh, okay, this is really different, maybe Trixie will finally get a girlfriend'."

Katya froze, Trixie's words suddenly fading into white noise as she stared at the blonde.

Girlfriend?

They had never used that word. And sure, it had only been a day, but one could argue they'd been 'together' for a long while. The verbiage was a moot point. Something just felt distinctly different about the word. It was different from lover or whatever they were now. It was a line drawn in the sand, it felt juvenile and sweet and soft. Girlfriend. Like reconnecting with your first love.

 _Girlfriend_.

"Then they just started asking about you non-stop, and for some reason I...I just went along with it. You were, like, a main conversation topic at work. So when I called in and said I needed almost two weeks off for a family emergency, I think Kim knew. That's why they've been flipping the fuck out. Because I was chasing after my Russian fantasy."

"You really had a thing for me, huh?"

"I mean...if you asked Kim, Naomi, Thorgy, everybody in my contacts besides my parents, they'd say yes."

"Sure, but I'm asking you."

Trixie looked up, her mouth snapping closed. "Uh...I mean. I. Fuckin'. Duh."

"When?"

"There's not really a specific point." The blonde shrugged. "Felt something different when you started calling me Russian words, felt nervous with how off-handed you were, felt empty when you left after kissing me. It all just kinda made _sense_."

It all made sense.

They would always dance between highs and lows. Comforting one another and making mistakes. Reconvening with sweetness and laughter. It didn't matter how hard they tried, who yelled first, who cried first, or who got tired of the other first. They were both afraid, laced together in a way so intentional.

Katya stood from her chair suddenly, leaning over the table and bringing her free hand to the edge of the blonde's jaw, just under her ear. She kissed Trixie. Just that, as simply as it could be done.

The guilt Katya clung to vanished for just a moment. Her anxiety surrounding everything that involved Trixie melted as she pressed slow circles into the freckled cheek with her thumb. She loved this woman. She loved her and was loved back, and no God or stained-glass saint could rip that away from her. If what Eve did was so wrong, so be it. If Joan had to burn for what she did, Katya would burn too. Enveloped in a firm grip of the world she lived in, the world where Trixie kissed her back, knowing that it wouldn't slip from her as easily as she thought it would. Knowing that her father was wrong, that this was normal, that every word of abuse molded her into someone that somebody viewed as loveable. Katya knew she would question everything for the rest of her days by Trixie's side. She would question both of their hearts, their intentions, she would worry for their position in an afterlife not yet proven to be real, she would dance around Trixie and hurt her with the habits that loneliness taught her.

But nobody could tell her that it wouldn't all be worth it. To live in the arms of an angel for even just this second.

And when she pulled away, a small smile hung on her face, bright and warm. A softness that Katya had never embodied.

"Yeah, _kukla_. It does make sense."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Privyet! This mediocre lesbian is BACK, delivering to you a lengthy exploration of what 'normal' means for a couple like these two. 
> 
> Thank you for all the well wishes in the last chapter !! (Also I love that I'm being called mom. that's so funny to me for some reason.) I lost power and had to relocate for a while, but I was definitely lucky in the long run. Plus, classes are cancelled until October - woo, more time to write !! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope this kinda all-over-the-place chapter will suffice for now. Isn't love weird? I'm thinking that this story may become more Trixie-centric moving forward. I feel as if I've given a very idealized version of Trixie's character through Katya's eyes, and I hope to make her more complex in the future. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and feedback is always encouraged! Stay safe out there ❤️
> 
> kukla - doll  
> dozhe - god  
> krasavitsa - beauty, beautiful one


	21. Labels

"So she's your girlfriend now?"

It'd been a week, maybe two since Katya had returned to the apartment. Things so easily fell back into the way they always used to be. It was just an elevated version of their old living situation.

"I. Well." Trixie put her drink down and coughed, bringing a hand to her throat. "Probably..."

"Wait. Ms. Monogamy hasn't talked about this with her dreamboat? Doesn't this seem a little outta line for you?"

It was hard to act like the cheap restaurant wasn't just a bar. Swinging back drinks in red-cushioned booths, with football games blasting from the multitude of flat screens per square foot of the building.

"Oooh, that means you're lovers then, right? Lovers, how _saucy_."

"Shut up, you fucking virgin."

"You will not speak to your elders like that."

"You're not the embarrassed type, either. this is different." The taller woman leaned into her drink, long fingers wrapping around the handle. "I mean, we always knew you liked girls-"

"Naomi, it's not your job to make me look fucking crazy by acting reasonable."

"Right. Those brows make you look crazy enough, Kim."

Trixie shrank into her seat as the two began shooting insults back and forth. The girl beside her rolled her eyes and pulled her feet up into the booth, smiling brightly at Trixie behind thick-rimmed circular glasses.

"I think it's great! I never thought you'd figure things out. Just want you feelin' good, y'know?" Thorgy jabbed Trixie's arm with her elbow. Trixie hadn't known the violinist for long, but she appreciated her firm grip on optimism.

"I mean, could you...talk to her about it? Couples? Communication? I thought lesbians were-"

Naomi smacked Kim's shoulder, shushing her as Kim sputtered on the edge of her cup.

Lesbians.

That's what they were, yeah. The word felt strange - tainted, almost, like it stank of alcohol and the straight men she had rejected over the years.

"Isn't it weird how college friends are so different from high school friends? My high school friends - other than you, Kim - would always joke about me being secretly gay when I would dump a guy they all liked...but now it's like, you guys just knew it - knew it before I even knew it. And it didn't matter."

"Aren't we the gay group, though?" Naomi interrupted. "We just kinda assume people who are friends with us aren't straight." 

"The gay energy, y'know?" Thorgy quipped.

"Yeah, exactly. So like...you showing up with a guy beforehand was the surprising thing. Not you gushing about a girl." 

"I mean...I didn't go running around with pride flags!" The blonde knew any effort against Naomi and Thorgy was futile. 

"Trixie." Kim reached across the table, holding one of Trixie's hands between clasped palms. "Y'know those white cowboy boots with pink accents that you wear sometimes?"

"Yeah?"

"There was NO need to come out after wearing those."

That was the final blow. "HEY! I like those, you bitch!"

"D'ya not like the word lesbian, Trixie?" Thorgy piped up, tilting her head to the side and mixing her drink with a finger.

"I dunno. It might be the whole church thing - I know I'm the only religious one in the group, but...maybe that's why?"

Naomi threw up her hands with air-quotes when Trixie said religious, and the blonde glared at her.

"It might just not describe you best. Maybe you're bi or pan, or somewhere in-between. Or you could just say 'I like girls!' and that'd be that on that."

"For once, I think Thorgy's right."

"I do have good ideas."

"Doesn't change shit about your music taste."

"And you only know how to wear lacy two-pieces with a robe from Victoria's Secret but still act like you're designer."

Trixie groaned and slammed her head against the backboard of the booth. "This doesn't help me come to terms with liking women, you guys!"

"Well, hey. You just said it," Naomi murmured, glancing over the rim of her drink. "You like women." They all stared at Trixie with expectant eyes.

"Uhm...I-I mean, yeah, I love a woman, but-"

"You LOVE her, wow!" Thorgy leaned forward and grabbed the blonde's hands, holding tight regardless of Trixie's attempts to wiggle away.

Kim's eyes widened. "Woah. That's a big word, Trixie."

"Yeah, really big," Thorgy added.

"I...I-I mean, I love you guys too, it's not that big a word-!!"

"You don't talk about how pretty our faces are or how embarrassed you get when we compliment you in a foreign language. You've never called me at work for comfort after an asshole stopped in-"

"Maaaybe I'd be able to do all that if you had prettier faces?" Trixie's head sank into her shoulders. This effort was wasted on trying to convince them otherwise.

"You've never made out with me on your back deck."

"K-" Her mouth went dry and she fell back into her seat, face bright red.

"Just a lucky guess." Kim downed the rest of her drink and smiled. "We love you too, Trixie. That's why we want things to go right for you. So let us tease you just this once?"

"Yeah, we all wanna meet the new in-love Trixie!" Thorgy smiled toothily, missing Naomi's glance at her interruption.

"Except Pearl, who's too busy chatting up the bartender to help us."

"You should invite this Kah-tea-ya here. Call her! I wanna meet her! Let's go all liberal-arts-college on her and go to a coffee shop and bring books with us that we'll never read."

Trixie buried her head in her arms. "She doesn't have a phone. And I left my phone at the apartment with her in case there was an emergency, and told her to call one of you g-"

Kim stared at Trixie, not breaking eye contact as she pulled her phone out of her bag.

"Kim. No."

She dialed slowly, a small smile coming to her face as Naomi looked over her shoulder.

"Kim-"

The phone rang for a few moments and Kim put it on speaker before laying it on the table in front of Thorgy. Thorgy squinted at the phone, glancing between frozen Trixie and the blinking screen.

It clicked. And it was silent.

"Hi, is this Katya?"

"Uh - uhm - Miss Mattel's not home right now-"

"What did she just call you," Kim deadpanned, eyes widening as she looked up at Trixie. The blonde's face was burning.

Naomi leaned into the phone. "Hey, we're Trixie's kinda-gay artsy friends. Just wanted to let you know she's doing okay, not drinking too much, and we wanted to do a phone interview to see if you actually deserve her."

"Oh. Oh! Sure. Okay."

"Katya, why are you agreeing to this-"

"I wanna meet your friends, Barbie. Especially the one who shaved her brows off to be artsy freshman year?"

Kim had a way of staring into Trixie's soul like no other. She mouthed "sorry" and snatched the phone from the table, turning it off speaker and nestling it in her neck.

"Sorry, I just - it would've stressed me the fuck out - I like being private."

"I know, _kukla_. I know. I was half-kidding, anyway."

"Tell me why you mentioned the eyebrow thing then, you bitch?"

"Cus I don't want your friends feeling superior when they haven't even met me yet."

"Fair. Fair. I guess."

" _Skuchayu po tebe_."

"What's that mean?"

"I miss you."

"Ah...I'll be home soon, promise."

Pearl had returned to the table, a half-empty drink in her hands, shooting glances between the three others at the table. "What the fuck is happening," she mouthed.

Thorgy leaned across the table. "Has she ever talked like that before?"

"No. Not that I can remember? She's always been...y'know, a little standoff-ish to dates," Kim murmured.

"Probably 'cus she already knew she wasn't gonna like 'em anyway." 

"Take your time, _kukla_. Come home with stories. Princess and I'll have a glass of something waiting for you here."

"And if I don't need it?"

"Then it'll be water, stupid bitch!"

The group oggled at Trixie as she laughed, loud and open like she would with any of her friends.

Pearl turned towards the group. "Okay, did this happen with that guy she was-"

"No, she fucking hated the guy. And it took her, like, two full years to finally break it off."

"Well, weren't they-"

"Sh! Look!" Thorgy shushed them when Trixie hung up, and all five looked to see the doofy expression on the blonde's face.

"Trixie's in love!"

"Stupidly in love."

" _Disgustingly_ in love," Pearl groaned, smirking.

"I...I mean..." Trixie scratched her cheek with a finger, her face lighting up as she smiled. "M-Maybe, yeah. Maybe I am."

"I hate to be the one. I do. But Trixie," Naomi began, "are you okay with how everything is? It isn't too close to...him?"

The blonde deflated. Him.

She never wanted to think about him.

"Katya isn't even...I don't want you to lump the two of them together as partners of mine. Katya's different."

"Tell us exactly how and leave no details out," Kim said, leaning into her hand.

"She's kind...she's funny and cares a lot, she makes me tea without me asking, she...she calls me her angel. We'd watch movies and shitty documentaries together and I'd fall asleep and wake up with my hair braided. Everything is like a new experience for her and it's really amazing to see the world through her eyes sometimes. When I sing her songs or demos, she'll mutter something in Russian and tell me it was beautiful. She says she loves my voice and my accent and I actually believe her. Every time she looks at me I feel like...the most important person in the world." Her voice got really small. "And I know I always said smoking was a dealbreaker but it's kind of hot to me when she does it."

"Oh, that's all?"

Thorgy burst out laughing and slapped Naomi's shoulder, who raised a brow at Trixie. "It's always a good sign when a dealbreaker ends up turning you on."

"Y-you know what I mean! It's....tobacco...and...y'know...."

"Yeah. She's addicted to tobacco and you're addicted to her. And you literally called in sick because you were suffering from Katya withdrawal."

"Pearl, you're getting fucking booted from the group chat," Trixie moaned, hiding her face in her hands as the others threw joke after joke her way.

"Can we meet her soon? I promise I won't let Pearl try to steal her. Max would probably die if something so scandalous were to occur."

"Max would die if she heard you mocking her natural born British accent."

"Oh, shut up Kim, oh my God...." Trixie screeched with laughter, covering her mouth as she doubled over.

"I like Trixie in love!" Thorgy grinned and threw her arms around the blonde. "More drinks for the only girl we know who's in love!"

She only had one more drink, maybe half of Kim's. Engulfed in the love of the first people who knew everything about her before she could get out the words. Kim, who had inspired her to continue in cosmetology. Pearl, who was the first person to ask her if she had a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend. Naomi, who modelled Trixie's designs but had asked why Trixie wasn't a model herself. Thorgy, who convinced her to record her first demo. The hearts that collectively gathered around her, lifted her up, and convinced her that she was both genuine in her feelings yet allowed her to make and learn from a variety of mistakes.

A tipsy declaration: "I love you guys, y'know that, right?"

Trixie drove home after walking around the block with her group, taking loads of pictures for social media and for Katya. She knocked on the door like the home wasn't hers. It was quiet for a few moments before the messy-haired Russian cracked open the door.

"I almost didn't answer, _kukla_ ," Katya murmured, pulling Trixie into her arms. "It's too. old out here for you to wait. You don't have to knock. The door's unlocked for you."

"Didn't wanna scare you."

"A lifesize Barbie doll? Scare me?" Her hands drifted downward, squeezing Trixie's hips. "Never."

"They made fun of me."

"Rotted whores. Why? That's my fuckin' job."

"Because certain words freak me out and I'm getting nervous for the first time ever and I really like you." Katya's hands crept up to her jawline, cradling her face.

"Can I have a kiss in the doorway?"

"I, y-yeah."

"Good."

It was soft and gentle - uncharacteristic for Katya, but fitting for her strange demeanor that night.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

Trixie tilted her head, squinting as Katya bit her lip. "Really? Shitty pick-up lines?"

"Are you from Tennessee?"

"Katya, I'm gonna lose my mind."

A toothy smile stretched across her face and she dropped her hands to Trixie's waist. "I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have y-"

"You don't even have a phone!"

"If you were a chicken..."

"Katya, please. For your sake more than mine. For the shred of dignity left in your body." The blonde pressed her palms against Katya's cheekbones. "Don't do this."

"You'd be im- _pecc_ -able."

"WHY." Her knees faltered and she leaned against Katya's shoulders.

"I'm hitting on you, dumb whore."

"Whhhyyyyyyyy..."

"Because your friends said you thought I was cute, so I'm trying to...what are the kids saying, shoot my shot? Fuck, _kukla_ , I couldn't have possibly been more obvious."

"You sleep in my bed. You've lived here for months," Trixie deadpanned.

"Okay. You have a point. I like where this is going. But what am I?"

"You're...Katya."

"If your dad wasn't a homophobic bastard, what would you introduce me as?"

"...Katya Zamolodchikova, the lesbian that he's not allowed to hit on?"

"God, you're so lucky you're fuckin' pretty."

"I'm confused."

"Would you be my girlfriend, Trixie?"

The blonde looked at Katya and froze, her mouth hung ajar. Katya stared back intently, her hands still holding firmly to Trixie's waist. An ernest expression. Genuine and kind.

_Katya's not going to hurt you._

"I...I'm still confused. I thought...I thought you, uhm, didn't like labels?"

"Never liked 'em. But I'm reconsidering."

"You know you don't have to. I'm not gonna force you into anything. Even if my stupid friends try to convince you by texting my phone."

"Aww, really? They were that obvious?" Katya wheezed and kissed Trixie's cheek. "I mean it, _kukla_. I like the idea of this kind of label. How things are now is good, but God, wouldn't it be nice to add another nickname to the stockpile?"

"Mm." She tilted her head. "What'd they say?"

"They saaaid....no pick-up lines, especially the cheesy ones..." The Russian left her hands wander to the fleshy parts of Trixie's hip, yanking her against her thin frame. "Give her personal space."

Her fingers dug into her sides when they kissed, one traveling to the small of her back and another slowly making its way downward.

"They said be upfront, but not too upfront, 'cus you might scare her away."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Am I doing it right so far?"

Trixie shrieked, leaning her head back and laughing. "Horribly."

Katya pulled Trixie forward again, pressed close against her chest. Like a shitty rom-com Trixie would've only watched at Kim's house while full of shitty beer - hearts beating loudly, Trixie's lips slightly parted, the light above her apartment door flickering in the night.

" _Krasavitsa_. I think you're avoiding the question."

"I'm just confused. Where did the change of heart come from?"

"Mm, girlfriend always felt like a big, scary word. And like...it also kind of felt useless. Y'know how straight girls call their best friends 'girlfriends', y'know? I mean, even in Russian, the direct translation - _podruga_ \- literally just means female friend. And not even like, 'lady friend', or something, y'know." She wiggled her eyebrows. "It's just...fuckin'...friend."

"I...I dunno why, but I don't like that at all."

"Exactly! Ex-act-ly, it's such an ugly word and it doesn't even work for you. You're my _lyubovnik_ , my _vse_ , but...The world runs by different standards. Because I look at you and see someone who I want the world and even God to know as my girlfriend."

"Lu...lu-bov...nick?"

"My lover, Trixie. My everything, my all."

Her voice was hoarse and her expressions exasperated. She held Trixie so delicately, her brows furrowing as she spoke.

"And I fucking mean it, and...and I don't want your friends or anybody or even Princess to mistake exactly what this is. I don't want your friends to think I'm some experiment in the exploration of your sexuality. And...and I'm really scared that you're ashamed of me."

"Woah, woah. Why...you'd never be-"

"Then let me meet your friends. Introduce me as your girlfriend, don't make excuses for me. I want this to be real, inside and outside of our world. I know I'm not something to be proud of. But give me a chance."

"Katya-" Trixie wanted to kiss her so badly, but she just kept going.

"I know that in the grand scheme of things, we haven't known each other for the longest time, but I...Life is so different. I want to work and help you pay for the apartment. I want to work and take you out to lunch and dinner and all the things I saw straight people do when I had no money to my name and was walking past store windows, Trixie, you make me want more. You make me want more for you, but also for me? And it's...I don't want to be your secret. I won't let you be my secret. Maybe neither of us really like the word girlfriend, but it explains to the people who matter to you most what I am in the simplest way. You'll always be my _vse_ , Trixie. Just...l-let me call you m-"

Arms thrown over Katya's shoulder, practically making her lose her balance as Trixie kissed her. Playing with the messy, knotted pieces of her hair. Focusing on the warmth, the soft feeling, and knowing so confidently what her heart felt.

"Use any word you want, okay?" she murmured when she pulled away. "Call me your girlfriend or anything you want in Russian. As long as it means the same as what you mean to me."

"And what's that?"

"God, Katya. Don't you already know?"

A stupid smile spread across Katya's face, and she sank her fingers into Trixie's hips as she leaned up to kiss her. She pushed the Russian into the apartment, closing the door with her heel as Katya pulled her onto the couchbed. When they finally broke apart, Trixie had to pull her hair from her eyes to realize she was fully straddling Katya's smaller frame.

"Y'know...You could always call me something a little more....post-verbal, if y'know what I mean-"

"NOPE, I'm tipsy!" Trixie stumbled backward, screeching with laughter as Katya wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist. "Get offfff meeee, whore-"

"Ah. Trixie, look."

She turned and saw their reflections staring back at them in the mirror hung over the bathroom door. Katya stood up straight, admiring the pink lipstick smothered all over the lower half of her face. Trixie's eyes widened and she realized how flushed her face was.

"Man. We're fuckin' hot." Katya beamed at her reflection, pointing toward's Trixie's figure with her thumb. "That's my girlfriend, alright. There she is. And this is my girlfriend's lipstick, _fuck_ yeah."

"You sure jumped ship on not liking labels, huh?"

"Not a fan of labels," she said, leaning back and looking up at Trixie. "But I'm a huge fan of you."

There was no way Trixie couldn't smile back.

"I love you, Trix."

"Love you too, Katy."

"Katy - _KATY_?!" Katya turned and fell to her knees, a disgusted look on her face. "What kind of white American woman who actually likes her husband and two kids do you think I am? Katy? Never in my life have I been disrespected like th-"

And then Trixie leaned down, cupping one of Katya's cheeks with her hand, and kissed the Russian quiet.

"Fuck, you're lucky I love you."

"I know." She wiped the lipstick from Katya's chin and smiled. "Believe me, I know." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trixie's-ex-plotline has entered the chat! 
> 
> Anyway, welcome back to semi-speedy updates. When a small lesbian is trapped in her apartment because of campus flooding, all she can do is write. 
> 
> The thought of Kim texting Katya Trixie-tips to Trixie's own phone was really funny to me, I couldn't resist. Also, I honestly couldn't tell you all how close we are to the end of this fic. I have a couple more decently big plotlines planned, but I also like cutesy filler chapters? Lord help me. I'm never gonna let this fic die. 
> 
> Hope you all are doing well! ❤️ Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!! 
> 
> kukla - doll  
> krasavitsa - beauty, beautiful one  
> vse - everything, all  
> the rest is translated in the chapter ❤️


	22. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW : Lots of internalized homophobia - I'll give you all something cute next chapter, I promise ❤️

For the first time in her life, Trixie sat alone in the back of the church and came up with nothing. Her clasped hands lowered from her forehead to her lips. Opening her eyes, with the morning sun peaking through the giant glass windows.

God had a way of crawling out her life at what seemed to be the most inconvenient moments. She craved warmth and comfort, the gauzey feeling of spirituality that she found nowhere else. Staring in the mirror this morning, reaching for a nude lipstick, and noticing the darkening smatter of freckles across her nose, Trixie promised that she would find a way to make peace with the tumultuous waves in her stomach that roared every time she had touched the bible since Katya's return.

But she couldn't.

And it was probably because her main source of comfort was outside and around the corner, smoking and looking out on the dawning sun.

"Trixie...?"

The blonde jolted forward, looking up into the eyes of a familiar face.

"O-oh, it's just you, Ginger."

"Just me - _just_ me? Why, I thought you'd be more excited. I haven't seen you in a while, had me worried you'd left the Lord."

"I'd never."

"You know I'm teasing." The older woman snickered. "Not that there have been rumors or anything, but there definitely have and we're worried about your friend. Will she still be able to start this week like we agreed? The holiday rush is gonna pick up any day now."

"Start?"

"Are you alive in there? The antique shop, sweetheart. Where your friend applied. Y'know, the one that I own."

"Oh, I. Yes, I'm sorry, I've just had...a lot on my mind, I suppose." She lowered her chin, still maintaining eye contact. Her church persona was a difficult character to adjust to.

Ginger paused, her eyes flicking over Trixie's face. "I'm guessing that if you're not being specific, you don't want to talk about it?"

"I just want the world to treat Katya well."

"Oh."

Trixie's hung open before snapping shut as she lifted her head, wide-eyed. "I didn't, uhm, the, everything just...I'm feeling a little lost," she stammered, landing on a sweeter, more demure tone. It was the quickest save she could manage.

But why was she so afraid of anybody catching on if God already knew?

"Well, Miss Trixie, I could tell you all that mess about the Lord leadin' you through it, but I'll tell you somethin' more useful." The woman reached a hand over the booth and ruffled Trixie's hair. "Don't think too hard about shit you can't change."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

"And you don't need to act all Jesus-y around me, kid."

She headed down the hall to the reception area, leaving Trixie alone in the main room.

_Lord forgive me, I am lost. I know that I am lost, but I feel that I have been found._

Trixie stood, walking down the main aisle and clasping her hands at her chest. The image of Mary in stained glass towering over her, frozen in time. Small, shining tears down the face of the mother of a savior. The morning sun shining around her face wrapped in dirtied cloth, her small hands held out as if beckoning to whoever would come. The blonde ran her fingers through her curled hair, her free hand clutching the fabric of her dress that hung over her heart.

Mary never asked to be the mother of a savior.

" _Kukla_." Love and all its voices. "If you stand in the aisle like that, I'll start daydreaming."

"Do you ever feel bad for Mary?"

"Hmm?" Katya walked up beside her, not daring to even brush shoulders. "Why would I? I mean, isn't being chosen by God a good thing?"

"But God only chose. He didn't ask, he forced Mary into this life. Even if it meant birthing the savior, she had no say in the matter." Her voice cracked as she spoke. "She was only fourteen."

"Fourteen? Really?"

"I mean...it's believed she got married at twelve, was impregnated at thirteen, and gave birth at fourteen. Can you imagine how scary that was?"

"Almost."

"I wish she could've just agreed. Like, gotten the chance to. She even looks...tired and upset. And lonely." Trixie lifted her head, gesturing to the image of Mary. "Like she's praying because she has to. Not because she wants to. And that _sucks_."

"It does feel like nobody gets to choose anything, huh?"

"I wish I was younger again," Trixie murmured. "Do you remember being fourteen, when none of this mattered?"

Katya turned her head to face Trixie, admiring the blonde's profile as she stared up at the Virgin Mary.

"I don't," she said, reaching a pinky out to lace with Trixie's. "Because it always mattered."

They stood like that in silence for a few moments before Trixie ripped her pinky away, wiping her lipstick on the back of her hand and avoiding Katya's gaze.

"...Can you help me fix my hair in the bathroom?"

It was a single stall, with stone floors and walls. Katya locked the door calmly and turned to stand face-to-face with Trixie, who looked up at her expectantly.

"Mmm, you're not supposed to be taller than me. It feels wrong. Platforms in church? I thought you were a good Christian husband now."

"They're my nicest shoes. Maybe they're for insecure short guys," the Russian quipped, playing with Trixie's curls and pulling a few strands of hair over her shoulders. "Plus, I always expect you in heels. You didn't deliver today."

"So sorry to have let you down," the blonde murmured, leaning up to kiss Katya.

It felt right, even in the house of God.

"Now. That's not helping you with your hair, is it?" The words were fond and softer than usual.

"Yeah, you're right. The second-hand smoke might leave me worse off."

"Oh, shut up. Does this really help you?" Her hands fell to Trixie's neck, creeping up to her jaw. "Feels kinda backwards - not you. Just. Fuckin'. A church."

"Lots of things feel backwards. Everything in this place feels backwards," she said, pressing her forehead into Katya's shoulder.

The image of her step-father. His hands as powerful as God's, tapping against her mother's collarbone. Mary was all alone, and Mary couldn't run from her unborn son. But Trixie could run from the people she didn't want to face.

Katya held Trixie close for a few moments, rubbing her back and whispering quietly. She brought Trixie to the mirror, played with her hair, kissed her cheek, and then suggested that Trixie head out into the main hall. The blonde reluctantly agreed, leaving Katya alone in the bathroom.

The main hall had begun to fill out with regulars, all taking the seats they always did and whispering quietly to each other. How their weeks were, what their children were doing, all the church rumors and gossip. They smiled at Trixie as she walked by and it all felt genuine, but a rushing fear continued on in her chest.

And they all smiled to Katya when she walked down the aisle to the back of the room, too.

It was a slow, gradual movement. Trixie knew Katya had dressed well in her own eyes - plaid cigarette pants and a white button down shirt - but it was new in the eyes of older women. Something androgynous and fluid, just like Katya always was, but something the church hadn't really seen in a member before.

Trixie didn't like thinking that maybe she preferred Katya looking less boy-ish. Even better still, she yearned to see the Russian wearing whatever she wanted, pressed into the far corner of the living room couch with a cigarette hanging from two fingers and a book in her free hand.

She looked down at her own clothing. A loose, long dress, fit for her role in the church. An alien in her own skin.

Did it confuse Katya to see her looking like this?

"You're leading the hymn today, right?" Katya squeezed the blonde's hand. "Don't freak out. I'll be here."

Her vision snapped back into focus and she nodded, pulling her hand from Katya's to grab the hymn book. "I think...everything should be fine."

Regular prayer. The preacher and his droning tone, on and on with the words of a God that made Trixie boil inside. And yet Katya smiled, let out a few " _amen_ "s, and clapped with the choir as they sang something more soulful.

How did Katya do it? Stuck in a world where people hated her in the same her parents did. Confined between the walls that kept her from a happy childhood and a safe life.

With all that the church had taken from her, how did Katya act like this all made sense?

Trixie stood, a hand instinctly resting on Katya's shoulder. Walking down that aisle, in the eyes of so many, was painful. It felt like every single one of them knew. The smiling gaze of her mother, the kind looks from friends and family, the empty stare of her stepfather. She quietly sat behind the piano and everybody at once stood, murmuring as they shuffled to pick up hymn books and lean over shoulders to read the words.

Looking out onto the crowd, Trixie saw Katya smiling back. She decided that she hated Sundays.

_Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,_   
_The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide._

The blonde barely sang as she played, focusing on the keys that were embedded in her fingers. She already knew the song by heart. But she didn't want to make eye contact with the congregation.

_When other helpers fail and comforts flee,_   
_Help of the helpless, o abide with me._

Why did things feel so different? Trixie wasn't afraid in the apartment, out with friends, getting groceries. In the church, she felt so cold. With a slight tilt of her head, over the countless faces she didn't care to recognize, she saw the Russian beaming at her. Her _girlfriend_. With pride, with love, maybe something more obscure. She couldn't hate this church. This church gave her something no other place had.

_Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes._   
_Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies._   
_Heaven morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee-_

Trixie looked up at the high ceilings. Had this church already served its purpose in her life?

_In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me_.

Was it really the church that hated her? Or was it something else?   
  
_In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me_.

She lowered her head with the last chord, her eyes closed. The song that once resonated so heavily with Trixie now felt like the hands that choked her, a plea to God that she knew was unfounded and couldn't be answered. But Trixie backed away from the piano calmly, smiling to the crowd as they all shuffled together out of the main hall. They all looked so happy. Even Katya was caught up in the congregation, only just barely managing the pull away to step beside Trixie.

"D'ya like that song, Trix?"

"Let's skip reception. I wanna get lunch. With you. Please?"

"We have to at least say hi to your mom," Katya said, raising a brow.

When they walked into the reception hall, Trixie stared into a sea of blank, staring eyes. Unmoving and accusing. Like zombies who knew everything about her. When she blinked, the crowd was rowdy and filled with laughter. Sharing food and stories, not even giving the two women a moment of their attention. Yet, all at once, she felt too close to Katya, too comfortable, like she was being carried in the Russian's arms despite the two not even touching.

"Are you okay?"

"I...I-I think I'm gonna be sick," she breathed, backing away from the door.

"Trixie? Trixie, let me take you outside-"

"No, I...s-say hi to Mom for me, I need to - I'm sorry."

And she ran back down the hall, not noticing the familiar older woman approaching to take Katya's hand.

"It's okay, hun. My Trixie has her moments sometimes," the woman said to Katya, a small smile on her face. "I wonder if she ever loved this place like she pretends to."

Trixie ran like God was chasing her. Through the choir stands and down the aisle, out the door and into the mid-day sun, onto the near-empty streets. Couples walking into restaurants, a man playing guitar across the street on a bench. The world continued as it always did, moving and breathing beneath Trixie's feet, ready to knock her off balance at any moment. She wished she could rip apart any connection to a God that made her feel this way, but it wasn't God. It would be easy to disconnect from a God she couldn't prove.

It was so much harder to cut ties with the very real people that Trixie knew would never look at her the same.

She walked quietly down the street, sitting on the nearest bench around the corner and looking out on the empty fields beyond the park and surrounding shops. The blonde wanted to walk into the fields and never turn back, to feel God at her fingertips without the judgement of his followers.

"Why did God bring you to me?"

The smell of tobacco, and the creaking weight of somebody sitting beside her. She desperately wanted to be angry.

But she couldn't.

"Wasn't it cruel? An angel I'm not supposed to love? It's kinda - no, it's really fucked up if you think about it."

"I didn't mean to run away."

"I know, _kukla_. Neither did I."

"Why couldn't I be a man?" Trixie groaned, leaning forward and running her fingers through her hair. "Like, isn't this all so stupid? Isn't it weird how all this bullshit is because of one messed up thing? I felt so confident when it was just us. The thought of everybody else knowing is... _ugh_." 

Katya sighed. "Trixie, if you were a man, you'd still be living with a lesbian. You'd have feelings for that lesbian. And we'd be sitting here in this exact spot, except you'd be moaning about wishing to be a woman." A large hand rubbing slow circles in the blonde's back. "I've thought about being a man, but it always seemed like too much effort. I don't think it's healthy to idealize the 'everything's the exact same except one thing is different' fantasies. You'll never truly grasp what complications another world holds when anything seems easier than this."

"But I'm fucking _scared_."

A plain, open confession.

Katya pulled Trixie's chin upward, a firm expression on her face. "I am, too. Everybody is. Shit is fucked, right? But I'll be your back-alley lover if I have to. Even if it hurts."

Back-alley lover.

She liked that.

But maybe she didn't _want_ that.

Desperate to change the subject, Trixie offered a more delicate expression. "Did...did you really daydream like you said you might? Y'know, with the aisle?"

"Trixie, marriage is for serial killers and crazies," Katya muttered, shifting as the blonde leaned against her shoulder to make the angle easier on her neck.

"Oh, so you _did_ think about it?"

"Shut up, you cunt!" The Russian's face flushed as Trixie snickered. It was comfortable. It was calm. It was everything Trixie wanted that the church could never give her.

"Do you think it's possible to outgrow religion?" An innocent question that carried far too much weight, and Trixie knew it.

Katya paused for a moment.

"That's like saying you'll outgrow your childhood. It's obvious that things will change, and that you're not the same person you were ten years ago. But it's a part of you, Trix. Y'know? And you can't avoid that."

The blonde lowered her gaze.

"I still love my parents." The hand on Trixie's shoulder tightened its grip. "But I had to leave 'em. Cus I loved 'em, and it hurts when somebody you love hates you. You of all people probably already knew that about me." She paused, inhaling slowly. "I still ask myself if it was the right decision. I wonder if my parents know I'm okay. I wonder if they're okay. And it fucking tore me apart, sitting alone on the public bus, when I thought I'd wonder the same thing about you."

Trixie blinked. "But I don't know if I love God. I feel...hated."

"But why would you cut God out if He's not the one you're afraid of? I don't think He hates you." 

"H-how do you know...that He doesn't?"

"Trixie, I'm a withered, old woman who knows things. Believe me," Katya coughed, exaggerating her smoker voice just to make the blonde laugh. "You wouldn't be all over these chapped, sandpapery lips in a fuckin' _church bathroom_ if you were afraid of God hating you."

"Shhhuuut up!" She slammed a hand over Katya's mouth, muffling the Russian's wheezing.

"I don't want you limiting yourself." Katya held Trixie's wrist firmly, pulling the blonde upward so they sat face-to-face. "It's so shitty to think about never seeing people you love again. Because I get the feeling that it's not the church you're thinking about saying goodbye to - or at least, that's not the big picture, is it?"

Trixie tilted her head to the side, avoiding Katya's gaze.

"I haven't seen my mom in over a decade."

She lifted her chin back to meet Katya's eyes, wide-eyed and mouth agape. And for some reason, Katya was smiling.

"If it's what you have to do, then do it," the Russian said, nodding as she spoke. "I wouldn't change a single thing about what I did, because I'm here and so are you. But that's because I can't change anything, and I lived long enough wishing I could go back and change things that I got to the part of my story where shit started to pay off."

Trixie closed her mouth, guilt washing over her body. Knowing you can't felt a lot different from wishing you could, but she almost felt ready to live with that pain.

"I ran away from you because I loved you, right?"

"I...I-I mean, only you know your reasons-"

"No, that's exactly why." Katya's tone was firm and grounded. "Because I was scared you would hate me for how I was. Who I was. And I hurt you so fuckin' badly, Trixie. Remember that?"

"Everything's fine now, though-"

"No, it's not. You still get nervous when you wake up and I'm in the kitchen instead of in bed. I see how jittery you get when you leave for work because you think I won't be here when you're back. I see it. But do _you_ see what I'm getting at?"

"No? I have no plans of running from you."

"Then don't run from _her_ , Trixie. Give your mom the chance that I denied you. Give her the chance to love you, regardless of the circumstances."

She stared, wide-eyed. Of course Katya could see right through her.

"I want to remember a mother who loves me," Trixie murmured. "And I....now's the only time that. That I'm sure that she does."

"If I had stayed on that bus, I would've skipped town. I would've run as far as I could. I would've avoided you and country music and the color pink for the rest of my life. How would you have felt?"

"...Guilty."

"Right." Katya raised her eyebrows, trying to lead her oneward.

"Okay, fine, I get, you're smart and I'm a dumbass! Are you gonna keep being a smartass, or...?"

"Look bitch, I'm supposed to be the fuckup here! No way you're taking my spot." Katya stood, holding a hand out to Trixie and yanking her upright. "Oh, I spoke with your mom for you. Said you'd probably be around the corner - wise lady, huh?" That same, all-knowing smile. "And then she told me that you liked some shitty Italian place further downtown, and that if I took you there you'd pep the fuck up real quick. I've got a lot to learn from her."

Trixie furrowed her brows, groaning. "Fine. I'm super shitty and my mom's great, keep rubbing it in-" 

"And for the record, I did think about it. I kinda avoided the question back there."

"What?" The blonde looked at her questioningly. "Think about what?"

"You and the aisle. But I dunno if we'd see eye-to-eye on a fully pink wedding," Katya continued, ignoring the redness rising in Trixie's face as she pulled her closer. She knew exactly what to say to pull Trixie out of her 'moods'. "Maybe you'll convince me. You've been good at it thus far."

"Maybe instead of pink, we could do...hot pink?"

"You switched from back-alley to down-the-aisle so quickly I got whiplash, bitch," the Russian wheezed, toying with Trixie's hair.

And then she paused for a second, staring down at Trixie.

"If I can ask, this...Who scares you more than God, _kukla_?"

It felt like the world was closing in on Trixie. The ground tremoring beneath her feet, the sky melting over her shoulders and down her chest until only Katya remained, standing tall and still smiling softly. Despite all the pain in her expression and her eyes, she was smiling.

And because Trixie couldn't tell the full truth just yet, she grinned back.

"Almost everything," the blonde murmured with a shrug.

She appreciated the warmth of Katya's hand in the cooling fall air. She appreciated Katya for always remaining; even when the earth did backflips around her, Katya was resilient and calm.

"I'm...I'm getting used to being okay with myself. And I don't know how long it'll take or what else will change, but...Y'know, you aren't a fuckup. But my whole word is different, and two years ago I thought...I thought I had changed and that all those sinful things weren't true, so to come full circle and have to accept this about myself is hard."

"Will you tell me everything one day?"

When she saw Katya's expression crack as her hands slipped from the blonde's waist, Trixie couldn't help but worry. "What do you mean?"

"People keeping talking about a version of you that I've never met. One that's insecure and lied to herself. I'm not trying to force anything out of you, but...it's important to me. You sure as fuck don't know everything about me, so I'm sure there's a lot I don't know about you."

"...I." The blonde grabbed Katya's hand. "I'd actually like that. I'd like that a lot. If you can give me enough time."

"Mmm." She smiled weakly. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you. I mean it."

Katya pulled her hand away. And for what felt like the first time, the Russian avoided Trixie's gaze - instead staring off behind her. It was empty. It was disconnected. It was almost a little bit scary.

And then she looked at Trixie with the same distance in her eyes.

"Yeah, _kukla_. I know."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone!❤️
> 
> To start things off: Man, I've been both of these two nerds. The gay kid who doesn't want to be gay and inadvertently hurts the person they love, and the gay kid who gets hurt by the closeted partner. I hope everything in this chapter made sense - especially the "church" persona Trixie puts on and how it directly opposes her genuine personality.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter will be the group dinner! Katya meets the friends! Thank you for putting up with an angsty one, I really felt the urge to write this and just had to put it out next. It's been fun bouncing between the snarkiness and the honesty these two share. Interesting dynamic.
> 
> I hope you all are doing well, and thank you for reading ❤️ Feedback is always appreciated!!
> 
> Kukla - doll


	23. Idiots

Trixie looked like an excited kid, despite standing a few inches taller than Katya. Her expression was a complete one-eighty from her demeanor the previous Sunday. Pink heels clicking against the pavement, stabbing through the dead leaves as she twirled to face the Russian.

"I know I should probably be nervous, but this is really exciting!"

"What happened to being so private, hm?" Katya asked, shoving her hands in her pockets and shivering. "Fuck's sake, I can live a whole decade on the streets and my ability to survive without a jacket disappears after a few months of living in your apartment? Who am I?"

"I really hope they like you. They have to! I'll go all back-country on those city kids. Y'know how many serial killers come from dead towns like my hometown? Trick question, all of them do. And I'm fully prepared to become one of them."

"Airhead." Katya ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the frizzy curls into a ponytail. "Y'know, you don't have to fuckin' murder people if they don't like me."

"What would you do if somebody didn't like me?"

"Make their mom fall in love with me so I become their new dad, drain their mother of all her finances and disappear high and dry in the night like lesbian Batman."

Trixie stopped dead in her tracks, jaw agape as she swung her head back to look at the peaceful expression on Katya's face.

"UHM."

"Lesbian. Batman," Katya repeated firmly, nodding her head as she continued walking past Trixie. The blonde screeched with laughter and jogged to catch up with her, grabbing onto Katya's arm.

"People say that it's cuffing season. And by people I mean all of my friends."

"What kind of young-people slang is that?" Katya raised a brow.

"Oh my god, you senile old man. It's like...when people, y'know..."

"Feel lonely and decide to fuck whoever's closest to them so they don't spend the winter indoors alone?" The Russian bounced a little as she walked, leaning over close to Trixie's ear. "What're you saying about me, Trix?"

"Oh, nothing," the blonde smirked. "Just that you're too old to run away from me at this point. Easiest to strap down."

Katya huffed. "As if. These knobby knees had you wound so tight around my fuckin' fingers that back-country Barbie couldn't think twice about leaving me even if she wanted to."

Trixie didn't let go of Katya's arm as they walked. It was interesting to watch the eb and flow of her angel's affections, her hesitation washing away when she truly felt at ease. When she was comfortable, she blossomed.

It was nice to see that every once in a while.

"God, your friends have me acting like a stupid teenager. I haven't smoked in years."

They stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a text from Kim. Trixie's friends had claimed they were setting things up before the couple could arrive.

"Your first day of work is tomorrow, maybe it's a thing. Plus, it's only been maybe twenty hours."

" _Solynshka muya_. Your loose grasp on what addiction truly means is frightening."

"Your loose grasp of what 'I don't want my room smelling like tobacco' means is what's frightening."

Katya slid a hand onto the small of Trixie's back, lacing their fingers with her free hand and yanking her close.

"What're you-"

Only an inch away. Warm breath in the crisp air. "If you really minded, you wouldn't invite me in so often."

"Tracy. Really? In front of the children?"

Trixie whipped her head to the side, face flushing as she sprung away from Katya's grasp. The Russian sighed and crossed her arms.

"I thought you weren't replying to my texts because you're a ditzy lesbian now. Turns out I was right."

"Kim-!!"

The woman in the doorway grinned, pointing into the restaurant in an almost theatrical manner. "Just kidding! Everybody's inside. Pearl might fall asleep if you don't hurry up."

Everything about Kim (besides maybe the clumsy way she walked) was a production. Katya followed closely behind her, eyeing the sharply painted features and coiffed lavendae hair. A loose, pastel dress that cinched in at the waist. Her face was a well-edited version of Trixie on a rushed morning. It lacked the same charm, but intrigued Katya nonetheless.

They walked quickly to a reserved room in the restaurant - Kim's favorite room at her favorite buffet, Trixie explained in a hushed tone. A giant table, with a line of girls sitting on one side, and all the chairs pulled from the opposite side save for two, lonely wooden stools. Once lively with talk and muffled laughter, the room fell silent when all eyes landed on Katya.

And then again, it erupted with noise.

"Trixie wasn't kidding about her jaw..."

"I thought she liked red lipstick?"

"I made the mistake of assuming she'd own a hairbrush."

"They're polar opposites..."

"Well, I think that's a great thing!" A white woman with thick dreads stood eagerly, a mug of beer held firmly in her hand. "Trixie! Kah-tea-yah! Sit, sit, food is on the way!"

Katya's shoulders prickled with nerves. She smiled, trying to fake a calm demeanor as she sat down in a stool beside Trixie. They had already poured her a drink, of which she pushed to the side.

"Y'know, Trix, I'm curious." She turned her head, leaning into a palm and inching closer to the blonde. "Do all your girlfriends have to face the Lesbian Supreme Court? Or am I the special one?"

"You're the first one!" Ah, the loud one with dreads. Katya tilted her head back. "That's why this is so important!"

"Now, I'll have you know," Kim began flatly, a small grin on her face. "Trixie's basically told us everything so we just want to meet you and validate everything she's said that's so great about you."

"Kim, it goes both ways. I want her to meet you guys, too. None of this weird angry Catholic dad bullshit."

Katya beamed at the six girls that sat across from her. She held a glass of water with one hand, the other snaking beneath the table to hold Trixie's free hand delicately. "No need. I get it."

"So, let's act like we know nothing. Start us off," the thin, tan woman seated beside Kim stated calmly.

"I'm Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova."

Six blank stares.

She sighed. "But...you can call me Katya."

"Wait, so you're actually Russian? Trixie wasn't just comparing you to those pop-up ads you get when you're pirating a movie?"

"No. I like to pretend I'm slavic to seduce women. Because that always works." It was said fondly, with a thicker accent and roughed up tone, and got a few snickers from the group. Trixie squeezed her hand under the table, and Katya glanced to see the warm expression on her face.

She looked so genuinely _happy_.

All of her nerves flew out the window. Yeah, this was worth it.

"Has Trixie told you anything about us?" The girl who spoke was stoic and level-headed, with a sharp calmness to her demeanor that almost felt unnerving. She sat at the end of the table, head held high.

"Not much, honestly. I know...she met most of you in college, one was a close friend from high school. You all are in the arts, yeah? I like that."

"I'm Pearl." The woman had a way of looking at Katya through the corner of her eye. "And I'm the only other smoker here, so I'm sure we'll be good friends."

"That's not ominous and fuckin' weird at all," the Russian muttered, wincing when Trixie pressed a thick heel into her boots.

"I met Trixie in the design program. She wasn't great, but... better than most."

"Wow, what an honor. I've never heard you say such a kind thing about anybody," the gray-haired girl beside Pearl teased. Paler than a ghost, with dark eyes and deep burgundy lipstick popping from her canvas-like skin. "I'm Max. Trixie and I were in the same beauty program."

Katya's gaze dragged between Trixie and Max's faces, who both looked a little confused. Trixie, who looked like a beautiful paint-by-number art-deco Barbie. Max, a Victorian statue with delicate features. She pulled her hand from Trixie's, bringing a finger to her lips as she looked at them thoughtfully.

"The... _same_ beauty program?"

Kim, who sat directly in front of the couple, snorted. "And Max takes longer to paint, too."

"Not my fault I'm detail oriented."

"And I'M not?" she snapped, closing her eyes and sighing. "I'm Kim. I've known Trixie the longest - Shea will try to tell you otherwise, but she's a lying whore. Trixie and I would skip class to do each other's makeup in our highschool bathrooms." Kim grinned. "So we have similar styles."

"That's the first thing I noticed!" Kim had a humor to her that Katya thoroughly enjoyed. "Except, y'know. The pink."

"And what of it?" the blonde asked, turning slowly towards Katya.

"Nooo-thing, _krasavitsa_. Nothing at all."

"She's saying I'm better, Trixie. You have a few years to catch up, don't worry-"

The blonde pouted. "Rotting old whore. Two whole years older, wooow."

"Bet I'm older."

"Oh, I'm sure of that, you Steve Buscemi impersonator," Trixie muttered.

Katya's jaw dropped as she swiveled to look at Trixie, who smiled sweetly and pressed her palms against her jawline. "What happened to thirty being the new twenty, huh?"

"Thirty? Wow, I didn't know you liked 'em so old," Pearl huffed into her glass. Trixie's expression dropped a little when Katya's age was reaffirmed, her gaze drifting over the Russian's frame.

"Hey," Kim mused, pointing a long, acrylic nail down the line of girls. "Now Thorgy's not the oldest. She should thank you."

The peppy woman with dreads jumped to attention, her eyes firey behind thick, black glasses. "I'm not - I'm only twenty-tw-"

"Twenty-eight," Kim cut her off cooly.

Katya watched her visibly deflate at Kim's remark, quickly trying to come up with ways to change the subject. "Thorgy, right? How did you and Trixie meet?"

"Oh! The music program. I played violin in the pit of a travelling circus since I was really young, and only...mm, maybe five years ago decided to quit and get serious about music. So Trixie and I were in the same theory class! Exact opposites. Quiet country girl and loud strings girl." Thorgy had such a distinct, wide smile. "But we got on fantastically!"

"So Trixie does have optimistic friends. How frightening." Katya scanned the line of women. Thorgy, Pearl, Max, Kim, and-

"Naomi," the slender, tan woman nodded when Katya's eyes fell on her. "I'm the one you spoke with on the phone when Trixie had a night out with us. I was Trixie's model for her final presentations in the design program with Pearl. But don't think of me as a model."

Katya felt one of her eyes twitch. She couldn't tell if that last sentence was humble or pretentious.

"Stop acting brand fuckin' new, Naomi. You and your eight foot legs are a whole model, and you acting cute while wearing the clothes I made with my bare hands is gonna piss me off." The last woman in the row, a dark-skinned girl with turquoise hair, seemed to be of a similar style to Kim and Trixie. Her face was sharper than theirs but just as extravagant and beautiful when she turned to smile curtly at the Russian. "I'm Shea. Trixie and I kinda knew each other in high school, went to the same college, and I did all the same shit she did except music. Hair, makeup, design. She and Kim were stuck seeing me in almost all their classes, so we kinda had to become friends."

"Lucky Trixie."

"So what about you, Katya?" Kim asked, her tone smooth and formal. "How did you meet Trixie?"

"At church." Her words hung in the air, and the irony of it all came crashing down on her. "That's, uh...y'know, the best place the pick up women, right?"

Trixie had told her that only Kim knew the real reason Katya had moved in - it had slipped accidentally, on a late night when Trixie was first trying to process how she felt about the Russian.

"And she moved in after he moved out, right?"

He.

Katya could practically see Trixie's emotions flooding out of her face, flickering between worry and pain. A delicate and particular guilt. She had heard a few times now about a mysterious _'he_ ', but didn't want to make the blonde nervous. Forcing Trixie into corners never worked.

"Y-yes," Trixie stammered, downing the last of her beer and looking at the table.

"Ah, so you just needed money to pay rent, huh?" Shea chuckled.

"Oh, no. I was dead broke. Still am. Trixie dragged me to her apartment after I tried sleeping overnight at the church."

Katya calmly sipped her water, oblivious to the shocked expressions of Trixie's friends. Tension didn't sit well with her - it was thick and cloudy, between all the things Trixie didn't want to talk about and all the things her friends desperately wanted to know. She tapped her nails against the blonde's palm and laced their fingers together once more, a small smile coming to her face.

"Trixie...helped me out when life was really bad. And she was kind to me before she knew how shitty things were - never made me feel like a basket case or anything. It's something I don't deserve. Somebody who comes running when God serves you a fuckin' awful hand." Katya closed her eyes and her expression grew warmer as she pulled their clasped hands up over the table, bringing Trixie's knuckles to her lips. "A guardian angel. And I'm so thankful."

When she opened her eyes, the six girls across the table were staring with wide eyes, their gaze darting between Trixie and Katya. The blonde's cheeks were on fire, her arm shaking a little as she buried her face in her free hand.

"O-old cheesy bitch, I, I can't take you anywhere-"

And the room erupted in light. Laughter and joy, loud teasing and happiness. Katya watched all of Trixie's friends show their satisfaction in unique ways - Kim gagged at the show of affection while Thorgy cheered, Max clapped and laughed, Pearl rolled her eyes as she smirked, and Shea and Naomi chattered about how embarrased Trixie was. A toast, suggested by Shea - to the ever-evolving love that they all shared.

Katya loved that everybody in that room knew and loved the same Trixie that she did.

The rest of the night passed smoothly. Food came and went, drinks were passed around, Max excused herself early, and the seven remaining women walked out of the restaurant and into the cold, night air. Trixie, slightly tipsy, leaned into Katya's side, smiling brightly at her friends as they said their goodbyes.

"Don't fuck this up, alright?" Shea said, with Kim nodding furiously behind her shoulder. "We're tired of seeing her with a broken heart."

Katya beamed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Maybe walking to the restaurant wasn't the best decision after all. The two watched as Trixie's friends all drove away, honking at their silhouettes against the glow of the streetlights.

"'m glad they liked you," the blonde murmured. "I thought they'd think I, like...stockholmed you into falling in love with me."

"Is that what stockholm means?" Katya raised a brow, trying to hold back laughter at Trixie's drunken sweetness.

"You know what I mean-!!" She huffed, pausing for a moment when the Russian began walking.

"Trix?"

"Uh." The blonde hesitated. "Are - are you really thirty?"

Katya stopped under the nearest streetlight, barely able to make out Trixie's frame in the low light. "Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"No! No. Definitely not, no. Just...Uh."

"Spit it out, _kukla_."

"How long were you alone?"

Ah. That was a difficult question.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, lowering her gaze to the fallen leaves on the pavement. Life with Trixie was a slow dance, arms intertwined, skin on skin, with no intentions of ever stopping. Casual and warm. Moving onward with no clear direction, her heart sewn onto the outside of her ribs, with no regard for the speed of life behind their apartment. Life alone was a child walking on abandoned railroad tracks, hands held out to aid his balance. A cloudy, warm day, with dead grass surrounding the lines of gray metal. Eyes on the tracks, only paying attention to the forward motion. Young and careless. A hazy memory, with softened edges, lost on the Katya who stood before Trixie. The Katya that knew what it was like to not feel so lonely anymore.

She stepped forward, pulling one hand around Trixie's waist. The blonde leaned so easily into her shoulder, melting against her figure. They fit together well.

"That doesn't matter anymore."

"...Okay."

They stood like that for a little while, in the quiet lull of the oncoming winter.

"If we're doing tipsy twenty questions, is it my turn?"

Trixie laughed, muffled by Katya's hair, and lifted her head. "Suuure, sure. Whatever you want."

"Who broke your heart so fuckin' bad, Trix?"

She froze for a moment, pulling away from Katya. The distance felt colder than usual.

"Promise you won't get mad."

"Trixie. You plucked a gay Russian hooker off the street and made her fall in love with you. How the fuck could I expect to be your first _anything_?"

"Okay, then..." A short inhale. "Nobody broke my heart, I just forced myself to make it work with some stupid guy and-" Her voice grew quiet. "-gotengagedandalmostmarriedhim, but then I cut things off. Because...reasons."

"You WHAT."

"I reaaally, _really_ wanted to be straight," Trixie whined, her honesty stark and almost blinding. She grabbed Katya's hands and pecked her cheek. "It's not my fault you made it reaaally hard to not be a huge lesbian."

"Woah, woah - did, did...did this guy and I overlap at all...in your life?"

"I may be a lesbian, but I'm not a two-timing piece of trash-garbage."

"But, you...you're so young, how did you almost fuckin' get married? What if we had met while you were engaged? How did you...how long were you..."

"See, I knew you'd get mad," she murmured, physically dropping in front of Katya. Reasoning with tipsy Trixie was like having a conversation with a four year old. A very sweet and delicate four year old, but a four year old nonetheless.

"Nononono, I just...had no idea. That's, uh...kinda a big deal, I guess."

"I prayed a whole fuckin' bunch!" She stamped her heel to emphasize her words. "And, and when I felt really guilty, I'd go to the church at night and ask for forgiveness, and, and for a sign that I'd done the right thing. Or a way to redeem myself for...for stringing that man on for so long."

"Oh?" Katya looked at their joined hands. Everything felt familiar. Everything felt right.

"And then...you showed up, and I was like 'wow, she's pretty even when she looks like a swamp witch', and then I realized I should probably help you, and then...I stumbled into all those not-straight feelings and couldn't run from them."

"A swamp witch?" The Russian wheezed, hacking as she tried to choke back laughter.

"I was fucked up, okay?! I thought it was hot when you said Russian shit and I wanted you to _like_ me!"

Katya doubled over, ripping her hands from Trixie's as she laughed openly and loudly. The blonde screeched when she realized what she had said, her face flushing as she tried to take it back.

A childish love, affection that overwhelmed her. The thought of Trixie nervously trying to get her attention, Trixie looking at her pathetic, sopping-wet figure and seeing something attractive. An infatuation that seemed laughable yet oh so serious at the time, and the comfort of knowing that Trixie had felt the same tingling nerves that Katya did whenever they were close. She stood upright again, beaming and pulling Trixie against her chest.

" _Shtoh, shtoh...solynshka muya, lyubov muya_..."

"I, I literally just said - that's not faaair!"

"We're no different. No different at all."

"Mmm, what's that supposed to mean?"

A fondness washed over her. The two of them, both searching for something more from life through the grace of their hidden God. Stealing glances that the other was oblivious to, quietly hoping and always waiting for the day that something would click. A friendship founded on desperation, affection, and the hopes of something more.

"Katya?" The blonde tilted her head, staring at the Russian with a questioning gaze.

To all the past and future 'I-love-you's, especially the quieter ones. With warmth and comfort wrapped between then, the God that brought them together standing idly by and relishing in what he created. Every mistake they made and every mistake they ever would make, side-by-side.

Katya moved quickly, suddenly pressing a hand into Trixie's back and an arm into the bend of her knees, whisking her off her feet in one fell swoop. The blonde stammered, face red and eyes wide as Katya began to walk, picking up speed in the direction of their shared apartment.

"W-what're you - Katya, what are we-!!"

A gleam in her eye as Trixie leaned into the crook of her neck. The rush of cold in the night. And the need to be so bold when the opportunity arose. To prove to God what love really meant.

_Ya lyublyu tebya. Vsegda_.

"We're both fuckin' idiots, _kukla_!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya lyublyu tebya. Vsegda. - I love you, always. 
> 
> Are you there God? It's me, sad generic lesbian #3, back with another chapter. 
> 
> Sorry for such a break between chapters! Town cleanup has been rough. Life is rough. >insert author complaints for 5 fuckin years 
> 
> Thank you to everyone keeping up with this story❤️ It really means the world. I've always been scared to put my writing out there, so this has been a great place for me to test the waters. Take this longer, sawfter chapter as my note of gratitude, and I'll aim for another chapter in a day or two before class goes back. 
> 
> Feedback is always loved and appreciated!! ❤️❤️ Thank you for reading, and I hope the world is treating you well. 
> 
> solnyshka muya - my sun   
> shtoh - what?   
> lyubov muya - my love


	24. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take the summary to apologize for my unplanned hiatus - October rocked my shit completely. But this crunchy lesbian is back, and has plans of updating either weekly or bi-weekly for the foreseeable future! Considering starting a new series, but I'd like to have a bow on this one before moving onward. Anyway, please enjoy - this chapter covers basically the entirety of the emotional battleground.

Katya didn’t anticipate work to be difficult. 

 

She found herself glancing at the ancient clock that adorned the wall every few moments, her eyes darting between customers and the antiques laid across the warehouse-like building. Ginger was in the back room, handling checks and tallying the week’s numbers. Convincing people not to barter too much was easy, and she sold a few items in the first few hours that passed. Yet every minute trudged onward, every movement felt slow, and the world seemed to be walking backwards. 

Maybe Trixie felt the same way when she went to work. 

Waking up and actually having the get up. Curling into the warmth beside her, the scent of whatever fruity shampoo Trixie had decided to use enveloping the two of them. Watching fondly as the blonde made scrambled eggs for her poofy little dog, playing with her hair as the two said their goodbyes at the door. Knowing she would have to leave. Knowing she would eventually return. 

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone? Watch Maury and act like I’m lonely again?” 

“Dunno,” with a kiss on the cheek. “Just make the time pass quickly, okay?” 

How sweet, to have taken such closeness for granted. 

Maybe she should’ve let Trixie buy her that phone after all. 

 

“Katya,” Ginger began as the two took a quick smoke break behind the store during lunch hours. “You’re a hard worker, y’know.” 

“I try. I can’t not be.” 

“Why, though? You owe yer girlfriend money or anything?” 

“No,” she responded quickly, “I just really want to help suppoOOORTYOU SAID _GIRLFRIEND_.” 

“Yeah-huh.” The older woman raised a brow. “Katya. Did you really - you’re not slick, you rotted skunk.” 

“But. Y’know.” Katya almost bit into her cig as she held up her two pointer fingers to make a cross. 

“I’m divorced. I can love Jesus and think some of his rules are shit.” 

“Isn’t divorce an easier rule to break than lesbianism?” 

“See, that means they’re shitty rules. Everybody twists them to serve a purpose. Hell, I do too. You’re working here.” 

“Really! You think that?” 

“I’ve never met a pure Christian in my life. I mean, everybody’s done something, right? That’s why we’re all there. We all feel kind of guilty.” 

Guilt. 

Katya stared at the butt of her cigarette. 

Guilt. 

The picture of Trixie crying into the base of her tent that was stuck in the back of her mind forever, and her standing in the doorway of her bedroom with the blankets wrapped around her torso. The bag shoved far into the corner of the living room. The way the blonde jumped upwards when she awoke, swinging her head from side to side. Quiet whispers when she slept. Murmurs of being afraid. 

“Plus, I’m glad I was right. Part of me was scared Trixie was going after the wrong lady again.” 

“Again?” There was a tremor to the Russian’s voice that she hated. 

“I’ve known her for so long. Ever since she was little, it was...way too obvious she had zero interest in any boys she brought home. And she always went back to sit with you and was super persistent when you first joined the congregation and I...you know she had just got her heart broken. I was worried about her.” Ginger held the cig out to Katya, smirking. “But if you ever tell that pixie dust bitch that I care about her like that, I’ll start rumors about you exclusively to the old lady brigade at the church.” 

“No need! Really, no need!” 

“And if you do anything to fuck with her heart-“ 

“ _No_! Need!” 

The roaring thought. All day, every moment - _I want to go home_. Everything she wanted. 

The antique shop had its own, individual charms. There was a restoration room near the back that seemed interesting, and the shop boasted a diverse cast of community members as part-time employees that Ginger loved to talk about. Local theater workers, opera singers, dancers, performers - Ginger really had her fingers in every single crevice of town, it seemed. It became clear that the church was another business venture for her, and it was one that worked. 

“You miss her, huh.” 

It was a statement, not a question. 

“What? Hm?” 

“Katya, you’ve been staring at your wristwatch for five straight minutes. Like that’ll make the time pass. Just because you’re Trixie’s emotional and physical slampiece doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.” 

“Sl - _slampiece_ ,” Katya wheezed, doubling over and cackling. “Oh, oh Christ, you nasty bat....I thought people get fired for shit like that.” 

“This is an antique shop. I have decent money. I hire people I want to hire, not people I need to hire,” the woman huffed. 

Katya looked up and grinned. Ginger was kinder than she wanted to let on. 

When her shift finally ended, Katya hung around for an extra five minutes, hovering over the cash register. Ginger emerged slowly from the break room, raising a brow in the Russian’s direction. 

“Don’t you have a lady to go home to?” 

“Thank you for hiring me. It means a lot to have a job for the first time. And...thank you for speaking about Trixie and I so casually. That’s never happened before. Not even between us.” 

It felt out of character. But it also felt right. 

And Ginger smiled. 

“Go home, you useless lesbian.” 

 

Walking down the streets of downtown, Katya realized the small town was a lot prettier when she cared to pay attention to it. 

Little fireflies flickered in the distance, over far-off valleys and spans of seemingly never-ending grass. Weeds that bloomed purple buds peaked between the cracks of the sidewalk. College couples walked hand-in-hand like elderly lovers and even the just-opening bars glowed with warmth. Restaurants that Trixie probably went to with friends, buzzing with life. Typical city streets facing the countryside. A tree always in sight. It all felt familiar. 

Maybe, someday, when she and Trixie moved to another city, she’d find the heart to call this her hometown. 

Trixie.

When Katya came upon their apartment, she could see Trixie’s faint outline standing outside their door. The same softness. The same aura. The same angel that she always kept waiting. 

So she ran. 

Katya ran full speed across the road and parking lot, her feet pounding against the concrete. She slammed her hands against the railing of the metallic and rattling stairs, dtrying to make eye contact with the blonde for the home stretch before throwing herself against Trixie’s figure. 

The rush. The energy. And the feeling of two hands slowly creeping up Katya’s back, her kryptonite, her heaven-sent warmth and Godliness all wrapped into the motherly figure. 

She melted into Trixie’s arms. 

“Katya...?” 

“ _Solynshka_ ,” she murmured, “ _muya, muya. Moy_.”

Trixie pressed a hand into her back, smiling nervously. “Are you okay?” 

“I missed you, _lyubov_.” Stumbling into the apartment, joined as one, slamming the door behind them. The Russian pressed her against the closed door, smirking when her back arched against even the lightest touch. “ _Krasavitsa muya_.” 

“Really? Was it obvious?” 

“Even Ginger clocked me.” She buried on of her hands into the blonde curls, kissing her quickly and hovering an inch away from her face. “I’m never doing that again. You have to come to work with me until I get a phone, that was so terrible.” 

Warmth drained from Trixie’s embrace. “Ginger...what?” 

Katya froze, just for a moment. 

Oh, _shit._  

“Y’know,” she muttered, a hand hooking across the small of Trixie’s back. Closeness like she had never tasted it before. “I regret nothing more than leaving you, even when I know I’m headed nowhere else but home.” 

The blonde’s face burned and she leaned away from Katya. “Wait, seriously, what do you mean about Ginger-“ 

“It doesn’t matter.” The fingers of her spare hand traced over the pink collar of the sleep shirt. That same guilty feeling, despite the blonde writhing between her hands. She cupped the blonde’s jaw. “Just tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

“It...does to me...?” Her voice was quiet. Reserved, almost. Scared? 

Katya deflated, sighing as she pulled away and crossed her arms. “She just. Kinda. She said we were together.” 

“What do you mean she said?” Stern. Angry. And yet...that same feeling. 

“She said. She just said it. I didn’t do anything.” She could see the emotion bubbling in Trixie, rising quickly to the surface. “Look, Trix - you talk with her at church! You came to my interview! It’s not like I did anything!” 

“Did you at least deny it?” 

“...Why the fuck would I do that?” Katya huffed, raising a brow. The blonde stared at her, wide-eyed. 

“Because almost my entire fucking life rides on being able to keep living like this.” 

“What do you mean, your entire life?” She tried to smile, like it would help the rage firing from Trixie’s eyes. “Don’t you wanna...y’know, this is a small town, you can’t stay here foreve-“ 

“I can.” 

“Ah.” Katya rubbed her arm. _Here? Forever?_  

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it...hurts you to be here.”

“How would you know that?” 

“I...what the fuck. Baby,” Katya murmured, stepping forward. English pet names would always feel foreign. “Doesn’t it hurt lying so much?” 

Trixie held out her forearm, barring Katya from getting closer. “The next time we see Ginger, you have some explaining to do.” 

“What - woah, what am I gonna explain? I’m in love my super obviously definitely-straight roommate? _Kukla_ , she’s cool, I doubt she’d tell a soul.” 

“I don’t want to risk anything.” She shut her eyes tight. “And I’m not lying to anybody.” 

“This, uh - yeah. Yeah, Barbie, you are.” 

“No, I’m not. Please tell Ginger you were just messing around.” 

“...I.” 

Confusion, maybe. Anger, sure. Pain, most definitely. She stared at the blonde girl, eyes wide and slack-jawed. The Godly Woman. The girl with her heart. The one she thought she could never say no to. 

 

“...Y’know what, _fuck_ no.” 

 

It felt bad. 

“Excuse me?” 

But the memories boiled at the surface. Her father, the bruises, the world fading quickly. The relationship of intertwined self-hatred, spiraling out of control and sending Katya way west into the great unknown. Trixie, before her. Katya looked down at her hands and for a split second, she could just barely make out the purple and yellow hues scattering her skin from years before. 

“I said no. I won’t. I won’t lie on your behalf. I love you, but no.” 

“...But.” 

“Trixie. How long are you gonna do this? If you don’t want me here, just-“ 

“No, I do, I-“ 

“So I’m yours in this apartment but anywhere else you’re a single woman? Kinda fucked, right - I’m fine with whatever open shit you want, but I’m not fine with whatever this is.” 

“Katya, I just-“

“Don’t want to be associated with me in public, huh? Right. Yeah. In front of God and all that shit, like that’s all that God sees. You aren’t afraid of Him. You’re afraid of other people.” 

Maybe she was raising her voice. Maybe she wasn’t just yelling at Trixie, but the shadowy figures of old friends and relatives. Maybe it was the first time her heart had hurt like this in fifteen years. 

But she knew she shouldn’t be doing it. 

“I want to do all the shit in public that you would’ve done with that ex-fiancé of yours. But we can’t, and I get that, but what the fuck is so wrong with letting somebody cool correctly assume that we’re together!” 

“Katya, stop-“ 

“I love you with everything I’ve got, but it stings like a _motherfucker_ to see you so full of shame because of me,” she retorted, yelling and spitting out the words as quick as she could. Regretting them immediately. But standing by them firmly. 

Silence hung like a thick fog between the two. Katya furrowed her brows and looked at her feet, shutting her eyes tight for a moment and shoving her hands in her pockets. 

“...I’m. I’m sorry, but...” 

_Don’t cry. Nothing good has ever happened when you cry._

She didn’t even cry the last time she saw her parents. She just assumed she didn’t cry anymore. 

Yet she cried so much in front of her angel. 

“K...Katya, I-“ 

“Don’t...” Trixie stepped forward as Katya lowered her body closer to the ground, folding her legs and pressing her nose between her knees. “Please don’t. I love you so much, _kukla_ ,” she breathed. “But please don’t.” 

“...I know Ginger would never tell anybody. But I...I-I really worry about my family. My...my mom. She already gets shit about how she raised me...I don’t want her somehow thinking she raised me to be like _this_.” 

“That. That’s what hurts so fuckin’ bad. The way you said it, you sound so _disgusted_.” Trixie leaned down, dropping to her knees to hold out a hand to Katya. “ _To be like this_. My dad said shit like that, y’know? He said ‘ _I didn’t raise you to be like this_ ’. So I left, and I found you, and...” She reached out and took Trixie’s extended hand, bringing it her lips and kissing each knuckle. “Do you need me to hit the road again, _kukla_?” 

“...What?” There was something powerful about seeing Trixie afraid of the words tumbling from her mouth. 

“I hate seeing you so confused. And I thought you had it, when I kissed you in front of your friends and your eyes shone when I told you I loved you in that buffet parking lot. Holding you. It all felt right, y’know?” She stood limply, guiding Trixie up with her. “And I do love you. I love you, I do. But I don’t want things to only feel right to me.” 

Trixie’s eyes darted over Katya’s shoulder, and she knew exactly where the blonde was looking: that damned camping bag. But she said nothing. And she looked pained. 

“...I just, I gotta stand up for myself at some point. Y’know, you just can’t keep-“ 

She trailed off when she noticed that Trixie stared at her so plainly. 

“What?” 

The blonde looked empty. Lifeless. 

 

And then she jumped. 

She threw Katya against the armrest of the living room couch, grabbing her collar as their lips crashed together - kisses that strained her neck and heart. Katya’s eyes widened, one hand clawing at the cushion of the couch and she began to melt against the blonde. 

The Russian wanted to tell her to piss off. To leave her alone. 

Yet her arms laced around Trixie’s waist, digging into the softer parts of her hips as her eyes closed. Salty and warm. Everything still stung. 

Katya fell back onto the couch, hands slipping from Trixie. The blonde flashed her teeth and  crawled over the armrest to straddle her, intertwining her fingers behind the crook of the Russian’s back to yank her forward and kiss her again. Every last piece of Katya moved instinctively. Sweet little noises, her back arching against Katya’s hands, hips jerking when the Russian’s fingers trailed down her thighs, and her lashes fluttering when she finally pulled away. Panting quietly, her cheeks darkening, brown eyes half-lidded as she looked down at Katya, her thighs pressing against the Russian’s frame in the exact way to drive her crazy. 

Katya met Trixie’s gaze, eyes wide. The blonde smiled nervously, almost shyly avoiding the Russian’s eyes. Both their lips parted, quiet breaths being all that could break the empty air of the apartment until Katya spoke. 

“T- _Trixie_ , what the fuck-“ 

“It felt right,” the blonde murmured as she lowered her head, her lips pressed against the Russian’s neck. “I wanted to do what felt right.” 

“ _Kukla_ , you can’t fuck your way out of a fight,” she huffed, her words husky with hands hovering over Trixie’s frame. The temptation to ask her to prove Katya wrong, so strong. 

“I bet I could.” It was less of a flirty statement - more like an affirmation with a sprinkle of desperation. 

“Not with my old bones, _krasakitsa_.” 

“And yet you keep using those fucking pet names,” she whispered into the crook of her neck. 

“ _Mmm, moy kotenok_ , I just can’t help it.” 

Warm breath against her collarbone. The blonde shifted to plant her hands in the empty cushion space beside both of Katya’s ears, hovering over the Russian with her fingers curled into the messy bundle of hair. 

“I. I love you, you know that - It’s a bad habit. I’m sorry. I trust Ginger. I want to...do all those things in public, too, I just...I’m sorry, I...I’m so scared.” 

Her smile was small and almost forlorn. “Knowing something’s a bad habit doesn’t keep it from fucking with people’s hearts, Trix.”

“You’re...I mean, I’m trying-“ 

Katya sighed through her nose, bringing a hand to Trixie’s cheek. Wet warmth. Brown, watering eyes. “I can and probably will smoke my way to the grave, Barbie. But would you really be okay with me excusing it as a bad habit if it meant you losing me twenty years too early?” 

“But you still smoke. I doubt you’d ever stop-“ 

“I’d try if you asked, _kukla_. Only you.” 

That damned silence again. Katya’s thumb wiped the side of the blonde’s face, small tears dripping onto the Russian’s forehead. Trixie bit her lip, her frame shivering as Katya wrapped her fingers around the pale, shaking arms and leaned forward. 

“ _Kukla_?” 

And now, Trixie cried. 

“A-ah, I, I didn’t mean - I don’t,” the blonde stammered, almost surprised by her own tears. Trixie, now sitting in Katya’s lap, wrapped in the Russian’s arms, crying quietly into her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I make you feel so guilty, baby,” she whispered, her fingers rubbing small circles into the blonde’s back and a free hand cradling her head. “And I wish I could go back and change anything or everything for you. But I can’t. And I’m sorry that I see pieces of my dad in you. It’s not my place to try to drive them away. You’ll have to stop me when I try.” 

“I won’t.” Soft and gentle words. “I...Would you leave this town with me?” 

“Yes, obviously, of course, without thinking.” 

The blonde lifted her head from Katya’s shoulder, moving to press their foreheads together. 

“Can I kiss you, then?” 

The Russian beamed. “ _Yes_ , obviously, of course, without thinking.” 

It was maybe one of the first times Katya understood what tenderness was. Trixie’s palms pressed into the edge of the Russian’s jaw, her nails grazing her cheeks. And with every second that the blonde melted against her frame, she knew she loved every rounded edge and softness to Trixie. Katya pulled her arms over the blonde’s shoulders, leaning into the kiss, breaking only to peck every inch of the lower half of her face. Anything to see Trixie smile. 

“Katya, stop-“ 

“Nope, can’t.” She pressed her lips against the blonde’s jawline, leading down to her chin. “Fuck, I love you, Trix. You can break my heart and tape it back together in seconds.”

“How can I stop breaking it, then?”

“Nothin’ wrong with getting a little heartbroken here and there. You're not going to be infatuated with me every single day. It makes the days when you are even sweeter.” A quick, chaste kiss on the lips. “I mean, it wasn’t the return I was expecting from my first day of work, but...we always do shit backwards, huh?” 

Trixie huffed, suddenly bringing a hand to her lips. Katya furrowed her brows, leaning forward to kiss the back of her hand.

“Can we go to the back deck?” she murmured from behind her hand, eyes glancing to the side to avoid Katya's gaze. Embarrassed. 

Cute. 

Trixie, mustering all her strength and not even waiting for a response, pulled herself from Katya’s lap. She stood from the couch, stretching and turning to Katya. Still an angel, through and through.

The blonde slipped her hands under Katya’s back and knees, waiting for the quiet nod before whisking the Russian off of the couch. She held her easily, easier than Katya did the night before, and held her close. Standing still for a moment, the Russian in her arms, lowering her head to kiss her cheek. In front of God. Any God who cared to watch. 

“You’re...stronger than I thought?” 

“Yeah, I always hated having big arms. This is probably the only good use.” 

Trixie stepped onto the back porch and the sun only barely shone over the horizon. Night was falling slowly, stars peaking through parting clouds of orange and pink, and the moon waiting beyond. The blonde gestured to put Katya down, but the Russian shook her head - instead hooking her arms around Trixie’s shoulders and swinging her legs to lock them around the blonde’s hips. Trixie stumbled, her cheeks warming as she pressed her hands into the Russian’s back to balance the two. 

“If I’m stronger than you thought, you’re more flexible than I thought.” 

“Are you still upset you were raised this way?” 

Trixie’s eyes widened, thrown off by the question. Yet, her expression melted so quickly, affection in every thought and movement. 

“I forgot what I was upset about, anyway.” 

“Do you think you’ll figure out what you want from God?” 

“Geez, really going at it with the hard hitting questions, huh?” 

“Don’t ignore the question!” 

“Well...” She trailed off, her face darkening when Katya leaned in closer and squeezed her torso with her thighs. “Yeah. Maybe one day, but I think - I think I need to stop asking God for things, at least right now. Because...y’know, as much as you say I’m you’re angel, and I say you’re my favorite Jodie Foster impersonator, I...” 

“Hm?” Katya tilted her head. 

“Through God’s intent or His lack of will to keep us apart, my life has never been better.” 

_I want to marry you. Can I marry you now? Would God be our witness and our minister if I married you now?_  

The rest of the evening passed quickly, as it was already half gone. Trixie texted Ginger, as her nerves were still a little unsettled. And Katya never let her eyes leave Trixie, as she knew that her original offer to leave was an empty promise, and she had no intent of going anywhere anytime soon. 

And the words _I love you_ , in every language she knew, slipped so easily from her lips. 

 

“I never asked you. How was work, other than Ginger?”

In bed, her breath quiet as Katya lifted her head from the blonde’s collarbone. 

“It was six hours of remembering that you’re a gift and a privilege to me, rather than a God-given right.” 

 

The text Trixie would send her friends:

_katya and i got into our first real fight tonight_

They would all freak out, and Kim would ask: 

_Oh shit, really?_

And her last texting before throwing the phone to the side, burying her fingers in Katya’s hair, and enjoying the quiet warmth of private affection until she dozed off in her girlfriend’s arms: 

_yeah. i love her so much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello again! 
> 
> So, so very sorry for my absence, but I hope this chapter of Trixie and Katya feeling just about everything there is to feel helps make up for it. I really hope you enjoyed - I've rewritten this a few times, and only just came around to this version.  
> Please leave feedback or whatever you please, it truly makes my day! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of an intro into what may be the final arch for this story.  
> The next chapter will be titled Mother. I hope to have it up next weekend. Until then, stay safe and have a wonderful week! 
> 
> kukla - doll  
> solnyshka muya - my sun (endearment)  
> kotenok - kitten (endearment)  
> krasavitsa - beauty (endearment)  
> moy / muya - variations of "my" and "mine"


End file.
